Forging the new Steele
by missyloves2read
Summary: The prequel of my first ff story, A different shade of Steele. This is an insight into what happened to Ana during the six years she and Christian were apart. How did she overcome the heartbreak, the loss? How did she meet Sarah and how did she help mold Ana into the stronger, independent and successful woman we all love in ADSoS.
1. Chapter 1: Death Sentence

**Forging the new Steele**

**Overview:** This story is for those who follow and support my first FF story, _A different shade of Steele_. Yes, I've decided to write the prequel. This is an insight of what happened to Ana during the six years she was away. Like ADoS, I won't go into specifics like starting from the very beginning. As a recap, ADoS is based on the _'what-if Ana eventually agreed to be Christian's Sub and that Christian NEVER lost his control (at least at first)__'_ theme. I like to use themes on each and every chapters/story that I right. The theme or inspiration can either be a song or movie or my mood. This prequel is anything but strong and happy unlike the bad-ass Ana we all love in ADoS so be warned. This is also for those who wondered why the Ana took so long to even consider giving Christian a second chance in ADoS (someone pointed out that it took a whopping 17 chapters) and why Ana is so cold and hard of the first few chapters after meeting CG for the first time in sex years, here's the answer. How did she overcome the heartbreak, the loss? How did she meet Sarah and how did she help mold Ana into a stronger person and how did she become so successful in a short time?

E.L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 1: The Death Sentence**

_"To love is to be vulnerable" – C.S Lewis_

I sat on my chair stealing sideward glances at the man sitting beside me as we finished our meal. To him, he is my Dom, I his submissive; but to me, he is mine and I am his. There is nothing I won't do for him; nothing I won't do for the love I feel for him. I would give him anything, happily do anything for him. He wanted me from the very beginning. I still feel horrible recounting the day that I clumsily stumbled into his office on behalf of Kate, my best friend. But looking back, it is when my life truly started: the day I met him. I have been his for the past six months and seven days now; he has been mine all the same. He is my first on everything, he's my teacher, sexual teacher as he likes to say, but to me he's my lover. To him, what we do is fuck, hard and kinky. But for me, it's nothing but sweet love.

Anyone in his world would call the pain of a cane or the sting ofa belt some sort of punishment for rules that were broken; for defying the master. Normal people will probably call it harsh, unnecessary and inhumane. I call it _love_. Like I said, I'd do anything for my love, my sweet fifty, even though deep down, my brain is telling me this is pure stupidity, this blind love has to stop. My heart however, my heart is on my side, urging me to go on. He feels it too, I know it. He doesn't know how to love, this is all he knows, so I am more than willing to give it to him. A relationship is all about compromise, right? It's plain and simple: follow his rules and he won't hurt you, like a game no, like school, like life. I'm a good girl, I rarely get punished. He only ever does it when he finds out about me spending time with my male friends. If Ethan and Jose would visit or if some guys in the office would try to talk to me, I would be punished. He's jealous, it's natural and though part of me knows that – it hurts that I have to abandon my friends. They've been my friends since college, but they will understand. We do anything for the ones we love to keep them happy, right? I'd sacrifice anything for this man, my man.

The flip side of the coin is his generosity and sweetness. If I pleased him, like tonight, he always rewards me with gifts, expensive gifts that I've learned to accept. My favorite is are sweet and tender moments like this, or when he would smile ormy favorite reward of them all, when he would sleep with me, in my room. My dream is to get to sleep with him in his room like we did my first time; the night we first made love. I wish it could be like that every night until, I don't know forever? He told me that it would never happen again, but deep down I know someday it will; once I manage to bring him out of the darkness and into the light. I feel his hands on top of mine and smile.

"You may look at me Ana" he said

"Thank you, Sir" I said, as I looked at his now smiling facetenderly

"You did so well tonight" he said leaning in and nuzzling my neck. I lasted a record five hours in the playroom without passing out. I took his toys gamely and did not make a sound or come until he told me I was allowed. I managed to control my emotions and take all the pleasure, something that rarely happens, but I think I've got it now, finally.

"And for that, you will be rewarded, dance with me Ms. Steele" he finished as he stood up, took a remote from his pocket andstarted the music.

"With pleasure" I said mesmerized, as I stood up and followed him. I wrapped my hands around his neck and he placed his strong hands around my waist as we started to move. I can't help but smile as he dipped me and then kissed my chest. How I love his playful side, it's adorable and infectious.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ms. Steele?" He said

"Your playful tonight, Sir" I said unable to stop myself from giggling. "I like your playful side."

"Do you know?" He responded dryly unable to contain a smirk

"Yes Sir, I love it when Sir is playful. I-" I said contemplating on whether or not I should tell him, unsure of his reaction. I have a feeling he won't like it, but I know that he knows. What do I do? Lie? He hates it when I lie, he would know that I'm lying, he can easily read my like a book, he will be displeased and he will most likely punish me. What do I do?

"What is it?" He said, his tone immediately becoming the Dom

Answer him, he doesn't like to repeat himself. The truth, tell him the truth I thought frantically. I closed my eyes and heard myself say the words "I love you" not knowing what his reaction was going to be

It felt like I was waiting for a verdict; my final verdict. He froze, not saying a word. He just looked like he was trying to digest what I just said. Like those words were alien, unfamiliar. He continued to look at me, and I watched and waited. I watched his reaction, his face, his beautiful face and waited for something, anything. His frozen face immediately morphed into one of understanding, then fury. In that moment I knew; he didn't need to say the words, I already knew the verdict. I lowered my head in defeat as he finally uttered the word

"Playroom"

My head snapped at the word "but Chris-" I began but he just glared as he cut my words

"Playroom, now" he said snarling the words. Hurt and completely disappointed, I turn around and walked, almost ran towards the playroom. My tears were almost blinding me, but I instantly wiped them away as the submissive in me took over. Irealized that not only was I being sentenced to pain, but I was almost certain that this was also the beginning of the end of me.

* * *

**Missy's NOTE: **This was inspired by a movie-musical. If you read my notes on ADoS; you'll see that I mentioned writing this story after watching that movie. Hope you like it (even though it's not a happy story) and as always, your reviews and input is always appreciated. Please forgive my errors.

Please find missylovestoread fanfiction in Facebook for pictures, snippets & inspirations.


	2. Chapter 2: The Great Depression

**Warning: ** If your still interested on reading this story, then I advise that you prepare for some or all of the following at least for this chapter: Vodka or Tequila shots, Wine, comfort food like chocolate and/or happy place (I suggest reading or re-reading the _'Late night'_ series by Netzel)

E.L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 2: The Great Depression**

_"The greater the love, the greater the tragedy when it is over" – Nicholas Sparks, Road in Rodanthe_

Bright lights flood a portion of the playroom as the door finallyopens and I see his bare feet walking towards me. What did I do wrong? I keep repeating what happened in the great room over and over and it all boils down to one thing:_ 'you said I Love you' _my subconscious answered, a quivering mess while my inner goddess is backed up in a small dark corner unable to say a word. Why is that a bad thing?_ 'You have to ask? The man you love is not capable of loving, Steele! Wake up and smell the fucking coffee' my_ subconscious hissed

"Do you know why you're here Anastasia?" he said deathly calm, the voice of the Dom

"No Sir" I answered, I honestly don't know why I should be punished for saying those words

"You lied… you know I hate being lied to" he whispered menacingly

"No sir, I didn't -" I scampered, but he cut me

"Shh – I don't remember allowing you to speak Anastasia" he said

"I'm sorry Sir" I murmured, as tears started to pool in my eyes

"Stand up, walk towards the bench" he said, his tone clipped. I stood and walked towards the bench he used to givepunishments, towards my doom. I bent towards the bench, my chest and torso flat against the cold wood. The tone of his voice tells me that this is going to hurt. I feel his warm hands and then cold metal handcuffs digging through my skin and on my ankles as he secured my legs to the table. I couldn't move, I knew it was going to really hurt, I knew it and for the first time, I wasscared, really scared. My inner goddess was crying silently still backed up in one corner, while my subconscious glared, still a quivering mess, but unwilling to look away.

"Sir please… I… I'm sorry" I whispered not liking the sound of his voice… it was so cold, dark and cruel

"You voided our contract Anastasia; our relationship is purely dominant and submissive. It doesn't include hearts and flowers. You broke that unwritten rule tonight by saying those words and for that, you need to be punished. I will hit you 30 times Anastasia and I want you to count for me"

I couldn't respond; it's as if he's hit me with his bamboo cane straight in the chest and then my gut. My inner goddess looked as if someone had shot her right in the chest while my subconscious just shook her head, tears in her eyes. The ultimate punishment: _rejection and humiliation_. I closed my eyes and waited with bated breath as I felt his hand caressing my behind and then it was gone. I braced myself for the coming onslaught,half my mind was guessing which tool he would decide to use,while the other half waited for the pain until… I felt the first blow. It's was like balls of fire being thrown directly on my backside, hot and extremely painful. I wanted to please him by taking the punishment in silence, but I couldn't help but scream and cry as I felt my emotions betraying me

"I told you to count!" he said as he hit me on the opposite side at the same time making me cry out loud

"Two!" I screamed as I struggled against the handcuffs. Ididn't know which one was more painful anymore, as more he hit me over and over, his leather belt lashing alternating on each side, as I continued to count, scream and cry. As the pain became worse with each blow, I could feel myself succumb. The pain was overwhelming throughout my body; the hallow pain in my chest, my back, my legs, my hands…

* * *

I sat in my study waiting for her to come in, I asked Gail to wake her for some reason that even I can't explain. It was early morning and I've spent half the night contemplating. On one hand, she's my favorite, on the other; she broke the unwritten rule of falling in love with her Dom, her master – or Sir as she likes to call me. I run my hand over my hair in disbelief; I never contemplate on these types of things. Christ, when this happens, all I ever do is to call Elena or look for a new sub myself! But then again, Anastasia is a different case. She's the only submissive that I ever had patience with. We've come so far together since that day when she stumbled in my office to interview me on behalf of her friend. The waiting hasn't beenmy favorite part, I had to fucking wait for her after that monumental screw up I made in following her to Portland where I let her friend, Katherine Kavanagh, boss me around for a fucking photo shoot and I had to wait so more after that time in the coffee shop. Good thing control and stalking (in a harmless way) are embedded in me. I waited until she graduated and moved to Seattle to make my move, and the rest, as they say, is fucking history. She was worth the fucking wait in every possible way.

Three raps on my door interrupted my musing. I sucked in a deep breath at the thought that this will be the very last time I will see those eyes – guileless blue eyes that captivated me fromthe moment she stumbled into my office. _'This has to happen'_ I reminded myself. Love is for fools, for the weak according to Elena; it certainly isn't for fucked up people like me. People like me don't deserve love and will not be worthy of it. I'm a monster and I have long accepted that fact. Everything is ready; the money has been deposited directly into her bank account, the deed of sale of the car, insurance documents and a copy of the NDA.

"Come in" I said sucking in a deep breath and looking at documents again. I hear the door open and see her through my peripheral. She's standing by the door as instructed, eyes downcast awaiting further instruction. Fucking tempting, remembering the many times I've fucked her in this office. I sucked in another steadying breath to compose myself, maintain control and to wear my mask, the impassive mask, or what I liked to call my poker face. Without looking at her I said:

"Sit" and she walked over tentatively and took the seat in front of me, eyes still downcast. Fuck, I almost growled. "This isn't a scene Anastasia, you may look at me" I said before I launchedmyself at her. She took a deep breath and visibly relaxed herself, lifting her head and looking at me with those clear blue eyes that always see right through my soul – if I had one. '_I'm making the right choice' _I told myself repeatedly as I sit in my study and gaze at her for the last time. _Here we go…_

* * *

_"I am terminating our contract effective immediately. Everything in your room, all your belongings will be delivered to your apartment; including the car, by the end of today or tomorrow. The insurance for the car and the deed of sale are in this envelope, along with a copy of the NDA that you signed at the beginning of our contract. Your severance pay has been deposited directly on your bank account. Again, I want to remind you about the NDA, Ms. Steele."_

_I nodded, took the envelope he forcefully handed to me and stared unable to say a word_

_"Taylor will escort you out and take you back to your apartment" he said nodding at the man behind me as he went back to his seat and looked at his laptop. 'He's officially dismissed you' my subconscious said. I tried to make some kind of noise but I couldn't, he looked up to glare at the man behind me and I instantaneously feel hands tugging me and a voice telling me_

_"Let's go Ms. Steele… Ana" Taylor said authoritatively. I looked up to see him and nodded letting him lead me out, again Ifelt the hallow pain in my chest as I looked back at the man I love for the last time before Taylor closed the door behind him_

* * *

My eyes finally open, the glare of the sun greets me as I finally wake up from that horrible dream… a horrible nightmare. "It's a dream, it's a dream… it's just a dream" I tell myself, closing my eyes and repeating the mantra trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths until my heart start to beat back to its regular phase. 'There…' I thought as I open my eyes once again and put myself back to reality.

The reality is that I'm in a room; my room at the Pike Market district, in the apartment I share with my best friend, Kate. This room is not where I'm supposed to be: I'm supposed to be here on Sunday night. It's just Friday, I know it because it's Gail's day off today and I'm supposed to cook breakfast. Breakfast for my man, 'sir' I corrected. Maybe I'm still dreaming? I thought pinching myself, feeling the pain; a lot of pain. Pain in my head, hangover I thought, a severe case of hangover it feels like, I look at my hands and I see welts, red welts. I going to have to wear long sleeves, a bracelet and a watch for two straight weeks until the bruises disappear. I feel the pain on my back, my behind particularly, I groaned as I have to sit on a certain way and pretend that I have been working on my rear muscles once again so Kate won't get too suspicious.

Giving up, I rolled to my side and noticed for the first time that my room is cluttered. The room is filled with boxes. I stand and open the boxes examine the items in it. One of boxes is filled with clothes it seems, I walk further and into the living room to find a couple of more boxes. I wondered vaguely if Kate is moving, and why she put the boxes in my room. Deciding I need something for my headache, I head to the kitchen; there I see my purse surrounded by empty wine & liquor bottles and my car keys lying on top of an envelope. Throwing the empty bottles inthe recycle bin, and again wondering vaguely why Kate would drink so much wine and liquor, I opened the envelope. The first paper is car insurance documents it seems, the second looks like a receipt and the last is a paper that says 'non-disclosure agreement' on the top, with my signature on the bottom. Thenit hit me like a bullet in the head: it's not a dream. I looked around once again and realized that it was not a dream, the boxes, the pain and liquor bottles are all mine.

'_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! You hit the jackpot!_' I hear my subconscious finally say tending to my unconscious inner goddess

As the reality slowly sinks right in me, I feel the pain once againin my chest. It is so painful it should be illegal; no one should ever feel this. I'm alone, he's gone and the pain is almost unbearable. It feels like someone has ripped my heart out and squashed it into pieces right in front of me. Dying is much sweeter than this pure agony as I feel myself succumb into fits of sobs, my tears spring freely again.

I barely heard the door open as I continue to lie on the floor. Clutching my chest and hugging myself in a hopeless attempt to comfort myself from the overwhelming pain that is eating me alive. I hear footsteps getting closer and closer followed by Kate cussing and calling my name

"Kate?" is say and I hear her footsteps approach. Finally I see her feet immerge

"Ana what the fuck!" she exclaimed leaning closer as she scooped me into her arms

"He… He" I said trying unsuccessfully saying the words

"What happened?" she said though I know she can tell, I'm a complete mess

"He… l-left...m-me" I said there and like a dam, the floodgates burst once again

"Shhh… it's alright… it's alright" she said rocking me back and forth

"It's hurts. Why does it hurt so badly" I say as waves of pain continue to overwhelm me

"I know it does, Ana… I'm going to kill that fucker… whoeverhe is" she said cooing as she hugged me tighter and I cried uncontrollably "shh Steele, your better than this, he's just a man! It's not the fucking end of the world!" she said forcefully

"It feels like it… it hurts Kate" is said unable to control myself from sobbing. It's true; it feels like the world had ended, like I died a thousand deaths. I'd give everything; do anything to not feel this pain again.

* * *

**Missy's Notes: **Ever suffered from a really bad break-up? You know, caught him cheating or the worst, you want him but he just doesn't want you. If you haven't then lucky you otherwise if you have, then you can probably relate to this or at least know what it feels like. To some, it maybe exaggeration or too much so please keep in mind that _this is just a story _and that people see or feel things differently_. Again,_ this is prequel to ADoS. The bad-ass Ana you know in ADoS did not become bad-ass overnight which is why I call this one '_Forging_ the new Steele.'

Questions, suggestions, reactions (hopefully none to violent) are appreciated. Y'all know how I love it when you do =)


	3. Chapter 3: Lost

**Caution: **The depression continues and then some… vodka or tequila shots, wine, comfort food or a happy ff story to go back to your happy place alert

E.L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 3: Lost**

_"Sadness flies away on the wings of time" ~Jean de la Fontaine_

Torture… weeks of nothing but sheer torture and now loss. I can't believe it: it's like living in a real nightmare. First, I lose him and now… I took a deep breath trying to steady myself from crying again. I'm tired of crying but my heart won't allow it. I guess crying is my body and mind's way of coping. This is crazy, this is stupid and I know it; he's hurt me more than anyone I know, I should hate him. Instead, here I am on my couch drinking again and wondering how he is and what he's doing. Is he thinking of me? Is he suffering like I am? _'I don't think so'_ my subconscious muttered and she's probably right. I've tried every means to contact him but he won't answer. I bravely went to Escala to try to talk to him but I'm no longer allowed in. The access codes were changed and when I tried to call, Gail said he isn't there. I called his cell but his phone only rang, he never replied to my emails, texts or messages.

"Your home early Steele, ugh! I told you, enough drinking!" Kate said after finding me huddled on the couch, a shot glass on my hand, eyes blotchy as usual

"I had a rough day Kate, I think I deserve it" a daily dose of wine or liquor somehow made me overcome my low tolerance in alcohol _'and it also escalated your crying, no scratch that, howling'_ my subconscious sneered

"You say that all the time; for the past month I think…" she said placing her purse on one of the chairs as she sat on the coffee table to face me

"Come on Steele it's been a month and all you do is cry, drink, work, cry some more and grovel about the fucker who you never introduced to me. The same fucker never had the balls to visit you here. Steele, you don't even deserve this" she said looking at me, imploringly "when are you going to see that?" she finished softly

"It's not about him this time Kate, though thanks for reminding me" I said I tried to smile

"What is it this time?" she said raising one delicate brow

I swallowed "There's new management; I got _'laid-off'_ at least that's what they told me. I think they fired me but they're just trying to break it to me gently coz they don't want to be responsible if I decide to commit suicide" I said _'listen to yourself Ana, who are you?'_ my subconscious said disgusted

"What the — I'm so sorry Steele" she said enveloping me in her arms in an instant

"It's alright; I mean, I guess I should've seen it coming, but I pretended to ignore it and it wasn't just me, there were about five others" I said _'don't fool yourself Steele, your boss already warned you but you just ignored her and you continued to try to contact him every chance you got… completely stupid'_ my subconscious muttered God I hate her sometimes

"It's not fair. I'm sorry Steele; you know I can ask my Dad, maybe he can help"

"No they're right, Kate look at me; I've been an emotional wreck the past few weeks, almost a month if I'm not mistaken. I missed work for a week because I can barely walk without howling. I went to work in the hopes of maybe it would distract me but it didn't!" I said closing my eyes in defeat "truth is I feel lost; just lost. I know what I should do, but I can't function. I need him to function again Kate. I tried everything, called his office, apartment, emailed, texted nothing… I. I lost everything Kate"

"Ana, I hate to say this but you have to stop this. You are not alone: you still have me, you're family! It's just one man for crying out loud" she said

"I'm sorry"

"You're keeping everything all to yourself that's why. You used to tell me everything Steele, what happened? Trust me, you'll feel better if you just say it out loud"

"You know I would, but I can't. Not because I don't want to, but because I really can't"

"This is bullshit; I'm worried about you Ana! You've lost a lot of weight, you haven't been eating, and you drink every night and cry your fucking heart out. You're so down that I have to check on you every night to see if your still breathing" she said tears now flowing out of her green eyes "I'm here, were best friends I'm supposed to do that and I don't mind doing it Steele, but I'm scared. I don't want to be the one to see you hurt yourself. Please, you have to tell me, let me help you on this, let me cry with you"

I sighed, she's right of course "Promise me you will not tell a soul Kate and promise me you won't do anything but keep this between us. I… I need your word"

"I won't do anything but keep this between us" she said

_'Here we go'_ I thought as I sucked in a deep breath "I signed an NDA that's why I can't tell you this"

"What the fuck?" she hissed

"You gave me your word Kate. Now you know he will sue me if he finds out that I voided the NDA" I said swallowing the tears threatening to come out as his face appeared in my mind. I concentrated on Kate's furious face as she tried to compose herself "do you still want to know?" I said hoping that for once she will let this rest

"Yes I gave you my word, now spill" she said determined

"It's Christian Grey" I said. As expected, Kate's eyes looked as if they're ready to pop out and the look of absolute fury replaced her stunned features

"That mother fucking asshole!" she roared, she stood up and started pacing. I prepared myself to listen to the Kavanagh advice, but what she said completely floored me

"Ana, this is all my fault. If I… if I… oh God" she cried, taking a shot full of the vodka I was drinking

"It's not your fault Kate, its mine. I'm too weak, too naïve, too inexperienced" I cried

"No Steele! The fucking flu! When did this happen?"

"After we moved here"

"So not after you interviewed him?"

"No"

"How?"

"I ran into him at the deli close to where I worked. It started there. First, he started calling and then he started emailing me at work until he invited me to his place for dinner. I was curious Kate and trust me I tried to resist, but the attraction was there"

"Ana you're saying a fucking millionaire is buying a sandwich where you work?! That's fucking deliberate! No wonder everything in these boxes is expensive! Why did you sign an NDA?"

"He said it's to protect him and his lawyers insisted on it"

"From what? His fucking privacy? That fucker, if I didn't give you my word I swear I'd kill him" Kate said fuming. I know the reporter in her is working overtime and I can't risk telling her everything. I shrugged, pretending not to know my conflicted emotions. She stopped her pacing and sat right beside me, holding me

"That's why it hurts so much. He was your first and you loved him" she said gently holding and trying to soothe me as once again, the flood gates open "hush, you'll get through this I promise you"

"I miss him Kate. I don't know what I'll do without him" I cried. I've missed a lot since the love of my life left me. I lost my happiness, my inspiration, my will to survive and now Kate said I've lost a lot of weight. I don't really care. All I know is that I'm left with nothing but the pain and the tears that came with it; tears are all I have left, the dam inside hasn't stopped spilling, though it subsided a bit. I'm able to stand and not crumble; walk without howling and talk without tears running down my face.

"You'll survive without him Steele and you'll be stronger, trust me"

"I don't see how"

"Trust me you will and one day we'll sit on this couch and you'll just roll your eyes when I bring this up. Hell, you might tell me you don't want to talk about him" Kate said getting up "I'll pick up some food and you will eat with me. I swear Ana, you look like you lost 10 maybe 15 pounds, your skin and bones and fading right before my eyes"

"I'll try" I said as I watched my best friend leave.

Tears escape again as I drag myself to the couch. Kate is right, I can add my appetite to the things that I've lost. When will this end? I thought as I hugged myself and hoped that sleep would come despite of the tears now free-falling I closed my eyes trying my best to stop the tears and think of him, in spite of everything he's done, of the pain he's cost, I still miss him and above all, I still love him

* * *

I stare at the keys in front of me in complete and utter confusion – is that the right word? I just need a fucking sleep. Just a few fucking hours of peace and quiet, yet even that evades me. I never really complain about the lack of sleep, I function okay without it. Hell, I grew up not having a peaceful sleep for fucks sake. Night after night, I would wake up covered in sweat and screaming until I'd woken everyone in the house, until my mother comes into my room to try to sooth me back to sleep. She would sing until my nerves relaxed, and I fall back to sleep and she never left. That was effective for a while, but now of course it's not an option. Playing the piano has been the replacement for Grace's humming since my teenage years. I would play until dawn, until the start of new day.

A nightmare is defined by a frightening or unpleasant dream or a terrifying or very unpleasant experience. In my case it's both, and it's not just one. Again growing up, I only ever remember dreaming about two things: the crack whore lying dead in the floor while I curled myself beside her, hungry and famished and the other, the crack whore's pimp using me as a human ashtray. Recently, give or take about a month, a third dream emerged: A beautiful woman kneeling in a dark room with those bright blue guileless eyes staring at me in both pain and misery. A month– it has been about four weeks since those eyes, beautiful powder blue eyes that registered shock, sadness and anguish turned towards the door and out of my… life. The dream per se isn't as disturbing as the first two. What surprises me is this pain in my chest that I feel every time I see those eyes. It's something that I cannot put a finger on, I don't fucking understand it. The worst part is that I find myself thinking about it, thinking of her more often than not, and the need – the fucking need to see that face again to see those blue eyes. Fuck! When did I become a fucking wuss? Two nightmares are enough; add a third one and I might as well bang my head against the wall.

"Err… Good morning Sir"

I turn to look at Taylor standing by the stairs wearing his sweatpants, no doubt ready to accompany me on my morning run. I stared at him for a moment contemplating when I realized I've been sitting at the piano for about two straight hours, not moving. Just thinking; maybe sleeping. Fuck! I can't even tell the difference.

"I'll be ready in 3" I announced. Standing up, I walked towards my room to change. _'Enough with the thinking Grey and you are not contacting her like a wuss'_ I taunted myself. The dream about her and whatever it is I feel is nothing… but… guilt, I suppose, and it will pass. What I did will benefit her more than me; she will forget about me soon, just like the others and she will… no… she will move on… eventually. Fuck! Why did that feel weird? I shook my head to erase the thought and concentrate on getting dressed for my morning run and meet Taylor who is waiting by the elevator

"Let's change the route" I announced

"Very good Sir"

Once outside, I ran my usual pace not even bothering to warm up. I ran four blocks straight until I found myself going left and about five blocks later, I found myself standing in front of a familiar building with Taylor right on my tail. I stood, staring at it for a moment and realized how fucked up I really am, running towards the place and toward the person I swore a month ago never to see again.

"Fucking wuss" I muttered turning to run the opposite way determined to make Taylor choose the route next time and make sure that the route will never include the Pike Market District.

* * *

**Missy's note: Wow.** To say that I am surprised about the reaction and support when I published this story is a bit of an understatement. I was prepared to go and live under a rock or something for fear of the reaction I might get. Thank _funk_ I was wrong. **THANK YOU** for the reviews, follows and favorites. I hope you liked this chapter (sorry if wee bit depressing). Please note that ADSoS is my priority and that I will not stop updating that one unless I'm PMSing or writer's funk attacks me again and of course if you tell me to stop writing ;)


	4. Chapter 4: The awakening

**E.L James Owns this Amazing Trilogy**

**Chapter 4: The awakening**

_"This too shall pass" – Holy Bible, King James Version_

I've been sitting on the same couch for the past hour since I got home after I got _'laid-off'_ drinking my butt off in self-pity. Wine, vodka or both as well as the boxes lying around my room and throughout the apartment are all I have _'don't forget Kate, your parents and me'_ my subconscious said distractedly trying to tend on my seemingly dead inner goddess. She's right of course, they're all I have and I must try to accept that. I must try to accept the fact that… I chocked back the tears but unable to, I must've had enough alcohol in my system to fuel the dam of self-loathing again so I succumbed once again to the pain. _'Goodness Steele, depression and alcohol: not a good combination'_ my ever efficient subconscious said and again she's right; I don't know what I'm thinking. I know it's wrong; that I seem to cry harder when I'm drunk but I keep drinking anyway. Maybe it's the promise that I will cry myself to sleep eventually or maybe it just feels good to cry.

I hear my phone ringing and hope explodes within me, it's him calling, finally I thought as I scrambled to answer it but just as a balloon deflating, the hope disappeared and disappointment crushes within me as I look at the caller ID to find that my mom is calling again…. she's been calling but I refuse to answer simply because like Kate, my mom knows me all too well to know that something is wrong. I've ignored her calls since he left me thinking that my mom doesn't need to know these things. I sit and stare at my ringing phone and wait for her my mom to give up and try again tomorrow but she's relentless _'pick up the damn phone before she decides to pay you a visit Steele'_ my subconscious warned. With a sigh, I gave up and put the phone in my ear

"H…Hello" I said hoarsely. Jeez even my voice is crap

"Anastasia Rose Steele. I have been calling and calling"

"I know mom. I'm sorry, I just… I haven't been feeling well lately" I said lamely

"What's wrong sweetheart? Don't lie to me I can tell your completely down sweetie" she said clearly worried now _'you have no idea'_ I thought

"I got laid off"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry" she said

"It's fine mom. I just… didn't expect it" I said wiping the tears in my blotchy eyes and thankful that she bit my bait

"It happens to the best of us honey. Don't worry; you'll be alright" she said

"Thanks mom" I said unable to agree with her last statement

"Why don't you come down and visit me?" she said

"Tempting mom but… listen I gotta go" I said as I hear Kate coming in

"Alright honey, let me know if you change your mind. I love you" she said

"I will mom. Love you too" I said as hang up and look up to see that Kate has brought company: Not just Chinese take-out, she brought her brother and Jose. Both are looking at me with the look of concern on both their faces while I stare at them for the first time since Chris – _he_... since he first asked me to turn my back against my friends and avoid them at all cost

* * *

_"I forbid you from ever talking to anything male including your friends, Anastasia" he said sternly as he stands right behind me his palms caressing my behind. He took me straight to the red room of pain after he saw a message from Ethan about having dinner just like old times and to say that Sir isn't pleased one bit is nothing but an understatement. I have displeased him and for that I needed punishment. He took me across his knees and said that since it's my first real punishment, he will take it easy on me. _

_"Are we clear?" he said menacingly and the palms that had been caressing my sore behind had disappeared. 'Say yes Ana or you'll lose him!' my inner goddess pleaded while subconscious screeched 'damn it Steele, you are not leaving your friends for this ass!' his palms connected with my already sore skin for the tenth time as he said "answer me!"_

_"Y-yes Sir, I won't talk to anything male Sir including my friends" I whimpered. My inner goddess breathing a sigh of relief while my subconscious looked scandalized_

_"Good girl" he purred "we will talk specifics later but now, I want you on all fours so I can fuck you from behind"_

* * *

"Hey…" I said sheepishly snapping myself back to reality. The last time I saw them, I practically ran out of the door to avoid them. Christian forbade me to talk to them _'and you willingly, stupidly complied'_ my subconscious sneered.

"_Dios mio_ Ana, what happened to you? You look…" Jose was first to answer while Ethan all but eyed me shrewdly

"Like a zombie, I know. We'll talk about that later, she needs to eat first" Kate interjected putting the food in the dining table "you will eat Ana!" she glared at me "otherwise I won't let you drink" she added taking my hand and forced me to sit on one of the chairs

We sat in the dining table and shared the Chinese take-out just like old times, collage pre-Christian times. The guys filled me in on what's been happening to them while I was _missing in action_ or rather while I was busy avoiding them. Jose is busy with his photo exhibit that is about reached Seattle in a few months' time while Ethan is busy with earning his master's degree in psychiatry

"Why are you guys here?" I said honestly curious though I think I know why

"Jose was in the area delivering his masterpieces to clients so he dropped by and then my dear sister here called so we decided to swing by…" Ethan said not looking at his beer

"Kate" she said frowning at her best friend who is in the middle of devouring a pot sticker

"What?" she said in between bites "I just called and asked my brother if he wanted to join us, Jose happens to be with him and its perfect timing; you need a friendly intervention. I wasn't kidding when I called you a zombie if anything you look far worst"

I finished the glass of wine I was playing before I tried to reassure my friends. "You guys, I'm fi—" I tried to say but a hand stopped me. I looked up to see that it's Jose looking sternly at me

"You're not fine Ana" Jose

"Really" I huff

"After that fucker you've been visiting five days a week left you, you lost 15 pounds maybe more, you're barely eating or doing anything but cry and drink. Then you lost your job, you barely ate your food but when we opened the wine, you didn't sip; you chugged yeah your fine" Kate scoffed

"You can lie to yourself but you can't lie to us. We're your friends Ana, we care about you. We're not here to judge, we're here to help. You look frail, Kate is right; you lost weight. Most of all, you look very unhappy and what concerns us" Ethan said rendering me speechless

"Yeah listen to Mr. Shrink" Jose chimed making her chuckle "that's right; were here to cheer you up and maybe beat the shit out of that guy who did this to you" he finished

"For months, all I ever did is to avoid you guys yet your still here trying to make me smile" she said guiltily

"_Dios mio_ Ana, whatever it is we are friends, we've been together through thick and thin. We've seen you make the dumbest things and what did we do? We either stuck with you, laugh with you or do the same thing with you. Kate obviously knows but she won't tell us, which is not fair. So fess up" Jose said

"I don't want to talk about it; I don't want to talk about… him" she whispered, taking deep breaths to keep myself from falling into pieces. Just then Ethan decided to get up and sat in front of me, intently looking me in the while both his hands held my now teary face as he said

"Alright I'm going to be on shrink mode" he paused letting me go while Jose chuckled and Kate shushed him "It helps to speak Ana, don't keep everything in"

For a moment, I wanted to laugh at his serious expression but at the same time, Ethan's expression somehow convinced me that I'm really not alone. That someone is there to help me but the NDA has put a halt on my mouth. _'You don't have to say the name Ana'_ my subconscious said stating the obvious so I took a deep breath and said:

"Kate is right, I met a guy. Fell in love, madly in-love with him. I did everything he wanted" I said picturing Christians face and all our memories together as I cried unashamedly "then… he… he left and ended things… Ended me" I continued sobbing now as I recall the day he cold heartedly ended things "it hurts and it didn't help that I lost my job a few weeks after" I finished. Ethan got up and enveloped me into a tight hug like he always did. I looked up to see furry in their eyes as they digest what I said

"Whoever that is, he's a fucking jerk Ana. He doesn't deserve your tears" Ethan said wiping my tears away as he continued to say "look, you didn't die when he left you"

"I wish I did" I said letting go of him to drink more wine

Ethan chose to ignore what I just said as he let go of me and looked me intently in the eye and said: "well you didn't. Trust me when I say that this happening to you is not your weakness; you didn't die when he left you, that means he's not your weakness. There's more to life Ana, more men out there who will make you happy. This experience will make you stronger in the long run, trust me. A few months from now, maybe years, you'll look back and laugh at how ridiculous it is that you cried over that jerk" Shrink Ethan finished making me chuckle

"Yeah, listen to philosopher Ethan" Jose chimed

"Way to go bro, all shrink and shit" Kate says making me laugh

"There, that's something that I've been waiting. To see you laugh" Ethan said

"It feels good to laugh" I conceded, it's true. I've been contorting my facial muscles for weeks because of all the crying and frowning that stretching them out the opposite way for a smile felt amazing

"It makes you look less of a zombie" Jose added making me giggle

"That bad huh?" I said

"Jeez Ana, have you seen yourself lately?" Ethan joked

"She's too busy either chugging a bottle of alcohol and cry to even bother" Kate said dead serious

"Thanks Kate, you really are sweet" I said rolling my eyes

"Cheers Steele!" Kate said batting her lashes sweetly as she handed me a refill

**~oooOooo~**

I woke up the next day in with another bad case of hangover. I lay in my bed absorbing the unusually sunny Saturday morning. The rays of sunlight hitting my face and waking me up completely and somehow the sunlight affected my mood, not that I felt happy again, the pain is still very present but I no longer feel the need to lay in my bed crying till my eyes are completely poufy like what I've been doing almost every morning. Another thought is that, I have an overwhelming urge to get up not only because my bladder is about to burst but because I feel tired; tired of lying and doing nothing. Strange.

The first thing I noticed is that my room is cluttered. Very cluttered no, unusually cluttered. What the fuck happened, Steele? I grumbled to myself _'you had to ask?' _My subconscious said muttered sleepily. Making a mental note to dedicate my very free time on cleaning my entire room, I got up and made my way to the bathroom. Ethan and Jose lay sleeping and snoring their asses in the living. I smiled at how comical they looked and thankful for keeping me company last night even though it started pretty rough. Again, I noticed how the apartment looked really cluttered in wonder 'when did I let this?' I mentally scratched my plan to clean my room and resolved on cleaning the entire apartment, including Kate's room and closet.

"Kate, can you please tell me why our apartment look like a darn tornado just passed?" I said. I decided on cooking a hearty breakfast for everyone before starting with my task. Everyone seemed shocked even with the various cases of hangover when they found me cooking in the kitchen

"Are you fucking kidding me? Steele, those are all your shit." Kate said almost choking her tea

"Right," I said completely forgetting that the boxes were my things from Escala. I took a deep breath still feeling the hallow pain but Ethan's words last night instantly repels it "I have to do something with these boxes."

"What do you want to do?" Kate said

"I want to throw them away" I said. Seem fitting I thought and my subconscious is agreeable

"No!" Kate said as if I'd committed a crime

"Why not?"

"Steele, you can make a fortune with these things!" Kate answered incredulously

"Kate" Ethan started

"Look, I'm not saying you should keep them, you should at least do something with them" she said sipping her tea with the gleam in her eyes that says _'I know exactly what to do'_

"What do you have in mind?" I said sullenly

"I, my dear have a better idea, wait here" she said smugly. She got up and ran to her room only to return with a small item wrapped in what looked like fabric foam and gave it to me

"What's this?" I said

"What else is it Steele? My camera of course!" she said sweetly opening one of the boxes

* * *

**Missy's notes:** First of all, I would like to thank you guys for your continued support of both my stories (this and ADSoS). Your reviews, follows, favorites never fail to put a smile on my face. So first three chapters of misery; anyone who went through a horrible break-up will probably agree that at some point, you get tired of the crying and groveling; so are the people around you. This chapter is based on the saying _"what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."_ I've heard those words long before Kelly Clarkson's song although I must say, I instantly loved that song because I can still remember and picture a guy friend of mine say it while he was holding our friend (who is suffering from a bad break-up) in the shoulder as he said those words. Yep, I've been through one of these 'friendly intervention' and based on my experience, it helped lift someone's spirit. Hope you liked this chapter ;)


	5. Chapter 5: The Journey

E. L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 5: The Journey**

_"Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go but rather learning to start over." – Nicole Sobon_

Kate ran into her room and returned with her camera and laptop in a flash. All that I, Jose and Ethan can do is gape as she took out one of the items – a purse I distinctly remember as one of the things that _Chri _– no, I can't think of his name – not if I want to move forward. Again, there's that hollow feeling, a void in my chest; that pain that instantly puts a stop to everything and anything I'm doing. _'Steele!'_ my subconscious said snapping her fingers for me to focus my attention back to reality only to find Ethan eyeing me shrewdly. Sighing as I hurriedly compose myself, I smiled tentatively at him and returned my gaze to Kate who has tastefully cleaned our couch as she carefully and stylishly places the purse in the middle. The purse is one of those ridiculously expensive items that he and his personal shopper, Caroline Acton at Niemen Marcus insisted I should have. _'Every girl needs a Chanel or two in her closet'_ I remember her saying, which made me want to roll my eyes while he just shrugged and waved his hand nonchalantly

"This along with the others will sell for full price or more Steele!" Kate said looking at me while pointing to the box full of purses

"Huh?" I said impishly, they're just purses for crying out loud

"Steele! Every girl –" she began

"Needs a Chanel or two. I know" I finished '_and I don't get it'_ I added as an afterthought "you know it's not my thing Kate. To me it just a damn purse" I said rolling my eyes

"That is just one reason why you're lucky I'm your dear best friend" she said proudly "I'll help you move on by getting rid of these, while gaining a small fortune"

"The last thing I want to do is have money that will remind me of…" I said swallowing the lump forming in my throat

"True, but the bad news is that if you keep these, they will be a constant reminder of that asshole. If you throw them away, yes you'll get your kick on that starting over thing, but remember, you're on the unemployment list and you do have bills to pay; so the best and most practical option is to sell everything and convert it to cash, make a small fortune and use it for whatever your heart desires" she said as she put all the purses together on the couch and took pictures of them in groups, solo and from various angles. All I can do is watch her and digest what she just said. Kate is smart, honest and loyal, just some of the traits that I love about her and I think I should also add practical to the list. '_She has a point, you're unemployed; selling those will help financially and emotionally'_ my subconscious acquiesces

"Oh well, I've got nothing left to lose, so what the hell" I said and to my surprise, all three of them: Jose, Ethan and Kate looked at me as if I just grew three heads

"Way to go Steele! That's a start" Ethan said patting my back

"Thanks Dr. Kavanagh" I said dryly and rolling my eyes as I sipped my tea "I'm just going along with this because your sister won't let me hear the end of it if I ignore her" I said. The truth is; I just don't know what to do next. Yes I've woken up and smelled the aroma of coffee that's been brewing for weeks. He's gone or rather he pushed me away, now what? _'You're moving on that's what's happening'_ my snarky subconscious said busying herself by getting a notepad to help out on the sale

"You're damn right Steele! Now hurry the fuck up and help me arrange these" Kate yelled bossily motioning to the overflowing boxes surrounding the apartment

"Hurry and help the boss; we'll clean this up" Jose said grimacing at the sound of Kate's too-loud voice

"Okay" I said content with my fate to be my best friends fashion assistant for the day, I finished my breakfast and stood up to join the always impatient Katherine Kavanagh taking deep breathes as I remember his impatience.

It took most of the morning to go through the boxes, then another few hours to set up and style everything according to the Kate's standards. Amazing how much he splurged on me over the span of six months. Piles of clothing – dresses, skirts, tops and even under garments; all of them now neatly pressed and hanging on a dress rack except for the lingerie (I successfully won the argument of burning those _'expensive Italian Lace'_ for the simple reason that no one will be interested in buying hand me down undies). Then there are the boxes full of purses and shoes, all of which Kate recognized to be luxury designer pieces that she thinks will also sell at or above full price; as most of the clothes, and especially the purses, still have the tags that indicate that it's the real deal.

Like true friends, even Jose and Ethan helped. Jose had no problems taking the pictures of each item, while Ethan helped Kate set up an online shop on both e-bay and amazon as an alternative if her _plan A_ didn't come to fruition, which consisted of one word: connections. Kate's family is wealthy and they know a lot of people who can easily shed a few thousand to buy items like these. The Kavanagh siblings relied on their parent's friends, as well as their own friends and co-workers to help. It's been an exhausting day, as Kate continued to bark orders. When she told me the estimate of what she thinks I will get out of all this, I couldn't complain anymore; she's doing me one hell of a favor.

By the end of the day, with the power of Kate Kavanagh, we were able to print out the pictures and create a portfolio for Kate to carry around with her at work, spare copies were made for the house guests, there was also an online page meant for potential buyers and appointments for viewing, thanks to Kate's mom, who jumped on the wagon without any questions and also nabbed the first piece we sold. Denise Kavanagh purchased what Kate called _the mother of all handbags_ the price of it alone is enough to cover my student loans. It is one of the most ridiculously priced items, aside from the Cartier jewelry he gave to me. The first sale – the first piece of him gone and like before, I don't know what to do next

We spent the entire week entertaining and bartering with potential buyers; most of them coming from the Kavanagh connection, thanks to Kate's mom who helped set up most of the sale by inviting both me and Kate into their estate to present the whole lot to her friends. The experience is both awkward and entertaining. I let Kate do all the talking, as she and I know that out of the two of us, Kate will most likely be the more convincing one. I sat and watched as each of the women, Denise included, asked Kate where the items came from and cringed when Kate wholeheartedly announced that our friend Jose has this friend who was scorned by her Über rich lover and wanted nothing to do with the items after finding out that the rich lover is actually a gay cross dresser. Needless to say, the time we spent with Kate's mom and her friends was not only humorous, but a huge success, as they all purchased at least one item. The guys helped me sell the electronics, as well as the car I've been driving. The laptop went first, while I opted to donate/recycle the blackberry, after removing the call transfer. Last was the car, we were able to sell it to Ethan's friend in record time. I sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand as I admired the neat apartment that I just finished cleaning when I heard the door open, keys rattling and the distinct sound of Kate's stiletto's coming in

"Ana, mom said she has a potential buyer for your Cartier" I heard Kate's excited voice say as she came into the apartment with take-out Chinese in hand. The last item left is also the most expensive, a matching heart shape padlock pendant, earring and platinum chain set and a matching platinum bracelet with the same padlock heart charm that he gifted to me on my birthday. It is also the hardest piece to let go of, not because of its beauty and monetary value, but because of the emotional ties I have with it. _'It's a collar Steele, he himself said it when he gave it to you'_ my subconscious glared

"Huh?"

"I guess I'll take you zoning out a bit over the crying and groveling thing" she muttered as she sat right beside me and continued "Mom called and said she knows someone who might be interested in the Cartier jewelry moneybags gave you" she finished as if explaining the idea to a three year old

"Oh, yeah I suppose" I said not wanting to admit whether or not I'm willing to let go of the last remaining piece of him with me

"Hmmm I am sensing a bit of hesitation" she said suspiciously which of course was right. Kate can read me like a book

"No" I lied

"No my ass, you were like that when Ethan brought his friend to buy your Tess books the other night" she pointed out. Tess books are equally sentimental; they came from his library. The one room where he knew he would always find me.

"Fine, they're the last piece of him Kate" I reasoned

"All the more reason to let them go" she snorted "look, he didn't hesitate when he left you so you shouldn't hesitate to rid him from your life. You were able to sell all the boxes, all the things he gave you, why stop now?" she finished

"That's true" I agreed, though mostly in defeat _'it's one last piece Ana, you've come all the way please do it'_ my subconscious begged on bended knee. I sighed "alright let's do it"

"That's more like it" Kate said smiling proudly

There's a certain sense of liberty each and every time I hand over a piece to an excited buyer. But the hallow feeling in my chest is still there. The pain, the sense of loneliness is still there and I still find myself crying to sleep at night; though admittedly not every night. I still think of him often, I miss him and above all, I still love him, even though every item that will remind me of him is gone. _'Enough fucking musing Steele; start the day already'_ my ever present subconscious screeched. She appears with snarky comments every time I find myself thinking of him _'yeah and I won't stop until we're on the same page bitch, now off you go'_ she added. Groaning, I got up and sat in my bed facing the early Saturday morning gloom looking around my room: my clean, almost empty room. The apartment is back to normal, clean and tidy. Clutter and wine bottles are gone. All the boxes are all empty and gone but my bank account is bloated, fuller than ever before, thanks to Kate and my friends, who singlehandedly sold every single item in those boxes, mostly at full price thanks to her family's connections. She, Ethan and Jose all refused me point blank every time I tried to hand them commission, insisting that they are only helping me out of this hole I'm in. What would I do without them? They're still here helping me when all I did was abandon them. _'Something that you should rectify starting with your dear best friend'_ my ever present subconscious added, she's right of course and I think I have the perfect idea for it

"Girl time, yay!" Kate said excitedly over breakfast when I announced that since she won't take any commission, at least indulging in girly activities will do.

"I suppose that's a yes?" I chuckled

"Steele, it's a hell-yes!" she said raising her mug to me for a toast. We planned a whole day of pampering and like what she said, girl time. I begged her to take me anywhere but Esclava, as the place is a no-go zone for me. She tsk-ed, but nonetheless conceded after I explained further. We went to a spa inside a hotel instead and spent hours getting prepped and pampered with all sorts of treatments. After the pampering came my least favorite part: shopping, it really isn't my thing. Kate thankfully finished way ahead of schedule, as she admitted that all the selling we've done was enough to exhaust her. We went back to the apartment to prepare for dinner at the French restaurant she chose. I let her give me a make-over, giving her full reign on everything from my outfit to the hair and make-up to the point where even I couldn't recognize myself after she was through prepping me. My long hair has been brushed and curled, falling perfectly in place. I feel like I'm wearing more make-up than I ever have, though in the mirror I don't look like a drag queen, she did so well emphasizing my eyes and cheekbones and most of all, I'm wearing her idea of a sexy, yet sophisticated ensembles: turquoise colored crepe dress that fit to a tee and matching black pumps

* * *

"Christ, you eat French food on a daily basis why pick this place" I said exasperated. Its tradition that I and Elliot take our baby sister Mia out every time she comes home from France

"Because it's gotten great reviews and as a chef specializing of French cuisine, I'd like to see if they are indeed authentic" she babbled

"Normally I would whine with you bro, as I prefer a normal bar or something heartier than these bite size portions, but this time around, I won't complain. The view especially from where I'm sitting is really spectacular" Elliot said as his eyes fixated in a different direction. Mia and I roll our eyes; he is no doubt eye fucking another blonde

"Hmmm Elliot, I think that's Mrs. Kavanagh's daughter, Kate. I wonder who the other girl is" Mia piped. I almost spit the champagne that I was drinking. Katherine Kavanagh is best friends with…

"Yeah, whoever she is… she's hot; damn those legs" Elliot smirked

"Maybe she's a model, she looks like one; really pretty. Now can you please revert your attention back to us and stop looking at them?" she whined

"Sorry baby sister" he said grinning like a total idiot, but he nonetheless reverted his attention back to us "yo bro, you worked with Mr. Kavanagh right? Maybe you can introduce me to the daughter" he said hopefully

"I'm not a fucking match maker Elliot" I said _'and I certainly won't go and introduce you to… her' _I added as an afterthought. The girl who's been starring in my dreams for the past few weeks or so is in the same room as me. The same girl I've been avoiding. _Shit!_

"Suit yourself little bro. Maybe she's gay, I mean, why go out with a girl?" He said grinning like an idiot as his gaze darted back to the table where Katherine Kavanagh and her companion were sitting

"Maybe it's a girl's night out thing" Mia said but stopped and added "Christian, where are you going" when she noticed me standing up

"Restroom" I said curtly as I turned, risking a glance at the women sitting at least ten tables from us. For a moment I felt relieved, I couldn't help but chuckle at Elliot's vision is when it comes to eyeing women, and lastly I can't blame him, the two women seated right beside the window, the blonde is wearing black cutout dress while her brunette companion is wearing a blue dress. Fighting the urge to walk up to them and steal the brunette wearing the blue dress, I walked faster and spotted Taylor hovering by the lobby entrance

"Did she see you?" I said upon meeting him

"No Sir" he answered impassively

"Make sure they serve our food in lightning speed I'd like to leave here before they notice us. Settle their bill but don't let them know until we left or when they are about to leave and make sure they won't find out who paid their bill understood?"

"Sir" he said nodding

* * *

"This place is amazing, thank you Ana" Kate said. We are seating at a posh French restaurant sipping champagne overlooking the Seattle bay

"No Kate, I owe you and the guys big time. It's a shame they couldn't join us" I said pointing my flute towards hers to toast

"Don't worry; they'll join us next time" she said dismissively leaning over as she continued "so, what's the plan?" she added

"What do you mean?" I asked picking on the rest of my dessert. The best crème brule I ever tasted

"Duh, your plan, we've sold all his shit, you don't have a job yet, what's the plan?" she said rolling her eyes

"Oh, I don't know yet. Maybe update my resume to start and then send it out?"

"You'll be alright Steele, you'll find a new job in no time and you know the position in Kavanagh media is still open, I know, I know as last alternative" she said pacifyingly

"If I don't find one soon, I'm considering moving to New York or DC" I said not meeting her eyes. When I looked back, Kate's eyes are glassy, sad

"Please tell me you're doing this because it's best for your career?" she said shakily

"Of course Kate, besides, whatever I decide, whatever happens, one thing will remain true: we're best friends" I said truthfully

"You're damn right" she said

"Thank you. I can't imagine what I'd do if I had to go through the past weeks without you Kavanagh" I said

"Anytime Steele, now enough with the drama, let's go and dance the night away" she said stopping her tears from falling. I motioned for our server who nodded and walked towards us

"Check please" I said as I reach for my wallet

"You're bill has been settled Ma'am" he said

"What?" Kate and I said simultaneously

"Your bill has been settled by a friend of the Kavanagh media" he said nodding to Kate who said

"Oh, thanks I guess" she said

"Our pleasure Ms. Kavanagh, Ms. Steele have a wonderful night" the server nodded

"Well that's a surprise" we both giggled as we walked towards the lobby. But as we waited for Kate's car to arrive, my heart stopped when I saw a familiar face that looked equally startled to see me. Taylor nodded as our eyes met. He was sitting in the driver's seat of a tinted Audi. I felt myself respond to his nod as my heart raced and scanned the tinted windows, imagining those gray eyes staring back at me. In that moment I realized two things: one, Christian Grey was in the same restaurant and the he paid our bill and second, there is no room for me here in Seattle if I ever want to forget him… I have to go somewhere where I can't see him or things that will remind me of him

* * *

**Missy's notes:** First of all, thank you for all your reviews, follows & favorites. Second, would it be too much to ask you guys to not stop and keep the follows, favorite & reviews (especially the reviews) coming? lol. Lastly, lets play a little game: what does this chapter and chapter 20 of ADSoS have in common? PM's or review for your answer! You maybe wondering what happened to my_ 'priority story' _well, its on the works, promise. Now back to this story, so the friendly intervention worked - a bit. For those who've been there you might agree, yep it worked, you've woken up; its over between you and him, now what? How do you start over? how do you start the process of moving on while everything and anything around you reminds you of that person. achingly hard. right? anyhow I hope you enjoy this chapter and please forgive any errors (if you see one)

I've created a playlist for this story (don't worry, ADSoS also has one). Depressing music helps a lot when writing a story like this. So far, I have the following but feel free to let me know if you guys have a song in mind ;)

(Warning: lots of Adele coz I love her)

Take it all & Don't you remember - Adele

Gravity - Sara Bareilles

Broken - Lifehouse

Almost Lover - A fine Frenzy

Pretty wings - Maxwell (guess which perspective?)


	6. Chapter 6: Europe

E. L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 6: Europe**

_ "We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us" – E.M Foster _

My efforts to hide and to rush my siblings into finishing our little dinner in record time are futile – fucking useless. She still saw me, or rather; she knows that I was in that restaurant and I paid for their bill despite the _Gift to the Kavanagh media_ pretense that Taylor specifically told the servers to offer if asked. The point is – she knows. It is obvious judging by the stunned look on her face when her eyes see the all too familiar SUV, and of course Taylor, who is in the driver's seat. Her eyes then looked around the car, not caring whether or not she could see through the tinted glass, and for a moment it's as if the tinted glass didn't exist at all. Those eyes, blue and full of emotion stare right through me, deep within me and like every time she stared at me, I feel… exposed. It is both unsettling and mesmerizing, but the feeling is quickly replaced by dread once I really look at her beautiful face. Even with the impeccable make-up she's wearing, the sad look in her eyes betrays her emotions. She's trying to laugh and be cheerful at whatever her friend is telling her, but her smile doesn't touch her eyes. Eyes too big on her seemingly gaunt face, she has obviously lost weight_ 'all because of you Grey' _

"Wow. Maybe she is a model" I heard my baby sister observe

"Huh?" I said distractedly

"The girl in the blue dress" Mia answered rolling her eyes

"The one beside the blonde" Elliot piped still eye fucking Ms. Kavanagh. I glanced over casually, pretending to be bored and noticed what she's wearing for the first time. The type of clothing that I like to peel her out of; a fitted dress that accentuate every bit of curve, her beautiful brown hair cascading around her like a halo, those legs – long, endless with those black pumps. She looks so fucking delicious that my cock stood at attention. I nearly growled and ripped open the metal door separating us when I noticed that most of the male population was drooling over her. _'Grey, relax'_

"Why the fuck are we still here?" I growled

"Traffic Mr. Grey" Taylor shrugged

"Christ" I said completely exasperated

"If you keep pulling your hair like that you'll go bald Christian" Mia said. I ignore her beauty advice

"I don't mind sitting in traffic as long as… damn. I think I want to marry her" Elliot said still drooling over the Kavanagh girl

"Ugh you say that all the time Elliot" Mia said rolling her eyes as finally the car moved and we are finally out of the place and away from the woman who's been haunting me in my dreams with those sad blue eyes

* * *

"Well, I figured since I don't have a job I might as well do something fun" I said reciting the line for about the fifth time now. Everyone seem surprised by my sudden decision to go _'back-packing in Europe'_ Kate nearly spat her tea when I told her during breakfast, she didn't take it well. As soon as I went back to my room, she dialed her brother Ethan's number, as well as Jose, for another friendly intervention. Even after explaining to them that I just need space to clear my cluttered head and that it's the perfect time to explore the world, experience new places, foods and people, especially since I am jobless and have enough money to travel, so might as well… right? Of course, they know me well and saw what I've been through and they all know better. _'That and the fact that they can read you like a book'_ my subconscious taunted. I roll my eyes, she's right of course, though I don't have to tell people, even my friends, everything all the time, I get sick of it

"When are you leaving?" I heard my dad say after a brief pause

"In two days" I said looking to the door to find Kate hovering, food in hand

"Does your mom know?" he said

"Of course" I answered. My mom is a different story. I planned for her to be the second person to find out, but Ethan and Jose took her spot due to the friendly intervention. After I drained all my energy explaining my decision to my friends, I finally called her to break the news. Like Kate, she didn't get why of all places to go to, I had to choose Europe. Of course, she pointed out that it was over a thousand miles away and on a different continent. That's the idea; go far away, put as much distance as I can between him and me. Needless to say, I had to repeat my explanation to my emotional mother and in the end, a promise that I will visit her in Georgia after my trip; making her completely happy and supportive of my decision

"Well, as long as you take good care of yourself Annie" he said gruffly

"Of course dad" I said, touched by his support

"Alright have fun in Europe and call me, okay?" he said sternly

"Scouts honor, I'll call you every day if you want" I said elated

"Take care and have fun sweetie" he said as we hang up. I didn't want to look at my best friend. I know I might have offended her in making my decision without consulting her. She's helped me through this ordeal and all I did to repay her is buy myself a one-way ticket to France, which leaves in less than two days. She's tried to convince me not to leave, or at the very least, give her a few days to request that her boss (which is her dad) approve her vacation leave so she can go with me. I'd love for her to go, but I feel like this trip is one that I should do on my own. I sighed and look up at my best friend who is eyeing my little suitcase in the middle of the floor half empty

"That's too big to qualify as backpacking" she said lowly, a first. Frankly, I'm expecting her to come up with another 100 reasons to not go on a trip alone and the movie _'taken'_ by Liam Neason comes to mind

"That's all I have" I said

"Why didn't you tell me? I have the perfect size" she said running back to her room and just like last time, she came back with two matching travel suitcase; purple colored trolley and a matching duffel bag

"Kate" I said

"Shh Steele; since you won't listen to my pleading and you can't wait to escape, at least let me help you. Oh by the way, these are on loan, all right? If you…she said pausing to control her emotions "I will hunt you down in Europe if you don't return in time" she said threateningly

"Kate, this isn't goodbye" I said which even to me sounded like a lie

"It feels like it" she cried

"Ugh! Even if it is, wherever I go you're still my sister, my best-friend, Kate. Besides, I promise you, my dad and my mom to call you every day starting the moment I touch down and I'm sure if I don't, you'll call me anyways" I chuckle

"Yeah" she said laughing as she wipes her tears away

"Now stop that, you'll set me off" I said

She helped me finish packing and I spent more time cooking and listening to the _Kavanagh Travel To-do List in France & Italy_ which I must say, I found completely useful. She helped me pick the best and most convenient hotels and itineraries. I spent what they called my last meal in Seattle, with my friends and before I knew it I was having an emotional farewell with Kate in the Airport, as well as saying farewell to the city that I called home and mostly, to the man I love, as I set off to the unknown… all by myself, all alone.

Sixteen hours later I've landed, boarded a cab, checked in and settled into the superior single bedroom inside the hotel Warwick Champs-Elysees, in the heart of Paris, France – the city of blinding lights. I sit in the bed and my thoughts drift. I really am in Paris… Paris and then it hit me like a bullet to the head, as the memory of our conversation over coffee hit me. Paris. I feel myself sink in the floor as I feel the tears pool in my eyes and then fall. _'No, no, no Ana! So what? The important part is you're away from him! There's no way in hell you'll see him here!'_ my subconscious roared, which surprisingly worked. I fumbled and produced the tablet Kate and I bought to replace my laptop, and then I grabbed my phone, dialing Kate's number; remembering her insistence that I call her whenever I want. I sit on the floor rocking myself as I waited for her to answer

"Hello?"

"Kate I'm here, where are you? Are you busy? Do you have Skype?" I said frantically wiping the tears away

"Chill, Steele! I'm here, I'm at home. Hold on, I'm opening my laptop and logging into Skype. Do the same and I'll call you" she said and I do as I'm told, opening the tablet and logging into my account and before I know it I'm video chatting with my friend. Her tone - and her endless questions about my flight, how the traffic was to the hotel I'm staying to the places I should go, to not trusting anyone and to make sure I go to the places she's listed for me using the sightseeing company her parents always use - is enough to distract me from the memory.

Paris is the most fascinating place I've ever been to – so far. Overall, a perennial city. It is romantic and elegant, grandiose and impressive, stylish and remarkable and above all, the busy streets, lights and attraction are the perfect distraction. There is no bad word to describe it. In just six days, I got to visit most of the museums like the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay and l'Orangerie. I've tried the food everywhere from the Montmartre Walk to a simple café down the street – coffee & pasties and dined at the same place Kate recommended Le Fumoir. Arc de Trimphe at the center of Place de l'Etoile which is close to the hotel I'm staying. Like other tourists, I've climbed the Arc's panoramic viewing terrace and gazed down each avenue in the city. I've watched the sunset while dining inside the Eiffel tower, visited the Palace of Versailles, Luxembourg Gardens, Notre Dame, Opera houses like Palais Garnier. One of the highlights of my visit is when I walked into the Shakespeare & Company bookstore. It is a library, publisher and boarding house for aspiring writers and was opened by an American, Sylvia Beach and was featured in Ernest Hemingway's memoir, _a moveable feast_. I made a mental note to myself to learn the French Language ASAP as I knew I would want to come back one day

The activities didn't give much time to think, as most of the time I just listened to the sounds of the city or took in the beauty of the real Mona Lisa painting, marveled at the architectural details of a building or groaned at the delicious food served and at the end of each day, even when I found myself alone in a city that seems to never sleep even the pain of missing him or the fact that I'm a lonely traveler doesn't matter anymore. For at the end of the day, I'm way too exhausted to think. By the sixth night, I am reminded that all good things must end and continue the journey to my next destination – Italy. Unlike the night before I left Seattle, when I barely slept because of all the thinking and worrying about whether leaving or traveling is the best solution for me. Tonight however, I feel nothing but sheer excitement. I realized that leaving Seattle is quickly becoming the best decision I ever made. Leaving erased the feeling of loneliness, I still feel it, but it's not as painful. The new unfamiliar places, endless activities and things to do allowed me to enjoy every waking hour of the day and look forward to what's next on my list. It is both refreshing and exhilarating to be free from the pain and I am determined to keep it that way.

I sit exhausted but never the less relaxed as I lay in bed chatting with Kate, who's been constantly calling and checking on me, even more than my parents. We talked, well she talked excitedly about my next destination: Milan, the first of the many cities in Italy that I'm scheduled to visit via the train. My train is scheduled to leave before noon tomorrow and I am scheduled to arrive in Milan in the late afternoon. She helped me pick the schedule so I can see the French, Swiss and Italian countryside and I look forward to it

"So what's next after Milan?" Kate said. I rolled my eyes as she already knows the answer

"Florence, Then a day trip to Venice, then a few days in Rome, then another few days in Naples and then I'm thinking Cannes & Monaco after" I said smacking myself in the head as I haven't told her about the last bit

"Steele! Why didn't you tell me that" she said alarmed

"Hold your horses Kavanagh, It's not concrete yet" I mutter

"Now that you're saying that why didn't I recommend it to you?"

"Because you were way too busy convincing me not to go" I smirked

"That's because I wanted to go with you"

"Right"

"Now what are your concerns? Don't tell me you don't have enough funds?"

"Nope. I have enough, I didn't go here planning to squander my funds on a shopping spree unlike someone I know" I said as Kate giggles "I'm not sure whether I should take the train or rent a car and drive nine hours or take the plane"

"Train is the cheapest way, Steele. Go back to Florence and take to train to Cannes from there. If you take the train from Naples that will be one boring hell of a train ride" she winked

"Good idea" I smiled back

* * *

"I love you" she said truthfully, though I could see the fear, pain and anguish in those eyes as she said those words

"I told you to count!" is my only response as I whipped the belt up in the air and savored the look of pain and fear in those eyes as she struggled through the tight hold of the metal cuffs holding her still in position. Her cries are getting louder, breathing erratic, tears spilling from those eyes as she starts to scream

"No, no, no, no!" someone screamed. My eyes opened and I felt my body automatically jolt upward. Another fucking nightmare. I'm soaked in my own sweat, my heart pounding outside my chest and my eyes in pain from being clenched tightly, as I'm taken back to reality from the dreams that had haunted me since childhood, along with the new nightmare that is now turning out to be the worst of them all. I realized belatedly that the scream came from me. Christ! When is this going to fucking end? I sat in an empty room trying to control my breathing, my eyes still searching around the still empty room and I realized that I have been sleeping in the room that had once belonged to the woman who has been starring in my dreams, the woman who had been on my mind every fucking hour of every day for months now: the woman that I carelessly threw away like a rag doll. _What the fuck is happening to me? _It had been weeks, more than a month since that night and days since I last saw her –her beautiful face but with misery in her eyes. Yes, it's probably because of that close encounter. It all falls down to guilt: my fucked-up self caused misery to someone so precious; so innocent because of my fucked-up past and the fucked-up lifestyle. I still don't get why; why of all people of all women why her? Then I realized that of all those women, she's the only one brave enough to even say those words out loud

Deciding to drown myself with music, I got up and walked towards the great room, all the while contemplating possible alternatives on how to put an end to this… madness. Option one is to get clarification, preferably from someone with more insight to my fucked up nature. There are only a number of people who know my secrets: Elena, John Flynn, Taylor and Mrs. Jones. Elena because she knew me better than anyone, John Flynn because I pay him to shut up and listen if I'm in the mood to talk, while the last two simply because they're staff and they work for me. I sat on the piano bench, opened the lid and let my fingers to the keys absentmindedly all the while contemplating on whether or not I should even consider telling anyone about this. The last two are out – its none of their business, John would listen and knowing him, he will probably smirk and say something smart and then there's Elena; knowing her, she would only shrug this off and recommend that I get a new sub. I stopped as I felt that hallow thing in my chest at the thought of replacing Ana. No. It's not what I need. _'What do you need, Grey?' _her name comes to mind at that question. I shook my head. Wuss. But then again, it's the only option that makes sense

"We're not running today Taylor" I said as I see him on my periphery and I realized that I stopped playing and resolved on starring at the keys once again

"Sir" he said briskly. I got up and reached for my phone and dialed a number not caring whether or not its dawn thinking that I'll leave her a message or send her an email if she doesn't answer but then I hear

_"I'm sorry but the number you dialed is no longer active"_

What the fuck?

* * *

The next day came and went. I woke up the next morning feeling like a kid about to visit Disneyland for the very first time. For five hours I sat on my seat in the train looking at the view from my window in wonder. The French, Swiss and Italian countryside is beautiful and picturesque. By nightfall I've arrived in the fashion capital of Italy, Milan. Like Paris, I've spent my first three days in the city visiting and tasting every bit the city has to offer from Michelangelo's masterpiece _the last supper,_ to walking around its famous canal's to trying their best coffee (yes coffee) and food. I even went window shopping in the Quadriletero d'Oro, something that I detest doing but the place is in the itinerary and a must according to the locals. They were right of course: the stores, window displays and watching the most stylish and probably richest men and women walk around carrying bags filled with expensive purchases from brands like Armani, Prada and Valentino is an interesting enough pass time. This is the part where I wished Kate was with me. I scoffed and sighed at the realization that I at one point owned some piece of these brands _'oh well, moving on'_ my subconscious said, appearing for the first time, and as usual she is right.

By the fourth day, I've boarded the next train, spent the next six hours sleeping and for the most part admiring the Tuscan countryside going to my next destination, the City of Florence, where I will be spending next couple of days exploring the art museums like the Uffizi Gallery, eating the best gelato, trying the wine and pasta, gaping at cathedral's like the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, seeing the statue of David, admiring the 14th century Ponte Vecchio bridge from a distance during sunset, viewing the city from Piazzale Michelangelo and of course, the day trip to the beautiful city of Venice.

I spent the same amount of days in the city of Rome, where like any tourist, I spent my first day in the city sightseeing in an area the locals call the _Roman forum._ It is a jumble of marble fragments like the Arch of Constantine, temples of Venus & Rome, the Colosseum. I ended the night dining and sampling more savory Italian dishes at a restaurant by the Pantheon. The next part of my tour in is both a religious and delicious experience once again. I was taken into the heart of the Vatican City to admire the Michelangelo's stunning frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. An audience with the Pope in the Saint Peter's square, I must say, is a highlight of my tour. The delicious part of the tour is more Gelato in the Il Gelato di San Crispano and tasting (more like devouring) authentic Italian pizza which I must say rivaled both the Sistine Chapel and the audience with the Pope.

I already know what to expect by the time I head to the last league on my trip, Naples. There would be pizza and gelato for my belly, more duomos or cathedral's, more art and more architecture. Like France, I made a promise to myself to study the complicated Italian language, as I plan on coming back, hopefully with Kate next time. By the end of my tour, in the last Italian city in my itinerary, and with the last pizza margherita I've consumed, I lay comfortably on the bed in my hotel room contemplating whether or not I should change my flight back to Seattle or continue with what I now call my personal odyssey (after I've taken a day trip to the Amalfi Coast where Odysseus was seduced by mermaids). Without thinking, I have picked up the phone and called the airline requesting a change of flight to either Monaco or Cannes, thinking that if it isn't possible, then maybe it is a sign that the voyage, my voyage ends in Naples. I very much hope that is not the case. And by some miracle, the ridiculously long call to my airline ended in relief rather than dread, as I have successfully delayed my flight back to Seattle and prolonged my journey by adding a trip to Cannes. I smiled excitedly at the thought.

* * *

**Missy's note: Thank you for all your follows, favorites & of course your reviews. ** Each person has his or her own coping mechanisms when dealing with such adversity. Traveling is one way of coping, at least for some people I know and I find it really interesting. I find it really helpful to forget things as you immerse yourself in the many activities a new or foreign place has to offer. It's a breath of fresh air even for just a few days. This is based on how I saw Ana in the original books and obviously, I've added my twist to it. The first thing Ana in the books did when she felt confused was to leave Seattle and visit her mom in Georgia to think (we all know what C did after). In this story she is heartbroken, confused and is desperately trying to run away from Christian and everything else that happened to her back in Seattle. Ana enjoyed the trip simply because of the liberty it provided; she found it liberating to no think about the depression and heartbreak. Anyone would chose to just enjoy life in a foreign place instead of thinking and groveling over the man or person who pushed you away, right? I hope you enjoy this chapter and please forgive my errors


	7. Chapter 7: The Stranger

**E.L James owns this amazing trilogy**

**Chapter 7: The stranger**

"_Sometimes you need to run away just to see who will come after you." ~Lisa Brooks_

"What?" I said unable to control the anger and frustration pulsating within me as I look at the report. At the end of each month, all department heads are scheduled to meet with me to discuss issues and development on all things GEH including hiring and firing personnel. I insist on hiring nothing but top candidates and I like to make sure everyone's working their ass off; I want to get what I pay for my employees. I reserve the meeting with the HR/Personnel director until last, as her reports include possible new recruits, people that are subject to a performance raise or promotions and lastly, list of people that have been in the firing range or in short people who have been dismissed. Everything on the first two reports are up to par that is until I get to the last folder which contains the list and names of the personnel that have been on the firing range. I scanned through the names and files and HR explains the reasons why they are no longer with GEH. I never really mind until my eyes focus on one of the files with the name _Anastasia Rose Steele _written on top.

"Err… Her job performance greatly deteriorated Mr. Grey; for a new hire, she has been missing a lot of work and have been out of focus, according to her supervisor. HR had no choice but to terminate the contract and find a more suit—" Veronica Sanders, GEH human resource director said stopping at what must've looked like the scariest thing she's ever seen, my death glare.

"Understood. That concludes the meeting Ms. Sanders" I said dismissing her. She scurried away looking as if her puppy died, but I don't give a flying fuck. I punched the intercom and asked Andrea to get a hold of both Taylor and Welch. I've asked them to try to trace her after not being able to contact her last night or this morning. Just a glitch. It should just be a glitch. Grabbing my phone, I stood up to face the unusually warm Seattle afternoon and tried calling the number once again hoping that maybe there's just a glitch with the phone companies or she just ignored her phone until the battery ran out, like she always does. I remember that I had to punish her once for it; but just like last night and this morning, I hear the same message:

"_The number you have dialed is no longer active"_

Fuck. Anger flared within me and seconds later, the phone I've been holding is shattered on the floor. What the fuck happened to her and where the fuck is she? Christ! Two stupid questions and I've only got one fucking answer: it's entirely my fucking fault. What happened to her is on me, wherever she is, is entirely my fucking fault. No, God damn it what the fuck is happening to me? I shouldn't be fucking worrying about her, the contract is done, but then again she's my responsibility I dragged her into this sick fucked up circle – my fucked up life and now she suffering because of… God damn it Grey, fix this! I heard another crashing sound; another piece of something hitting the floor and shattering into a million pieces under my hands and then I hear someone gasp. I turned to see that Andrea and Taylor standing by the door

"Err… Mr. Grey, I'll have Barney replace your phone and call the cleaning crew to take care of the mess, Sir" Andrea said scurrying out the door

"Welch is on line 2 Sir" Taylor said. I walked towards my desk and punched the line.

"Welch"

"Sir" I hear him answer

"News?" I said

"Sir it appears that Ms. Steele deactivated the phone account about three weeks ago, which explains why you can't reach the number anymore" he said and I heard myself groan

"Anything else" I said glaring at Taylor

"Sir it appears that she sold a lot of her belongings Sir. Her laptop, the car, books and a lot of clothing,Sir. Her bank records show a lot of money coming in, that and the fact that she and her friends initially set-up an account on eBay and Amazon to sell things, but they never used it. The page has been closed since roughly the same time she deactivated her phone"

"I see. Does she have a new number?" I asked bitterly

"It's not indicated Sir"

"Anything else?"

"Err… she settled all her bills Sir before…" Welch answered and I could hear clicking and shuffling as if he's looking for something

"Before…"

"Before she left Seattle Sir" he finally said. My fist hit the desk and made a distinct sound. Taylor flinched

"What the fuck! Where did she go and when did this happen?"

"She left Seattle about three days after she sold her belongings. That is roughly three weeks ago Sir" he said and I felt my knees buckle. She really left.

"Do you know where she went?" I said through gritted teeth, as I barely controlled whatever it is I'm feeling. Anger and something else that I can't explain… just the hollow feeling in my chest that seems to be spreading through my lungs, constricting them and preventing me from breathing properly

"She purchased a one way ticket from Air-France Sir, that's all I can find. The databases with airlines are hard to crack. I'm sorry, but we can assume that her destination is nowhere in the United States" he finally said.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where the fuck did she go?

"Find her"

* * *

"If I had enough money; I'd buy myself a house here Kate it's so beautiful" I said gushing at the beautiful scenery around me. Cote D'azur is like heaven on earth. I have arrived in the city of Monaco mid-morning and here I am in a small café overlooking the ocean, disposable phone in hand, talking to my best friend, who is sulking in her bed in Seattle. Monte Carlo – a vibrant city by the French Riviera; a place known for its picturesque views of the Mediterranean, the casino, the cars – circuit de Monaco and for American's like me, Grace Kelly. It is a place where living the high-end and not to mention, luxurious life, seems very mandatory. Expensive looking cars are everywhere, men dressed in luxurious suits like James Bond and the women who looked they came out of a magazine or were Bond girls, depending on the view point. Beautiful place, beautiful people, expensive life – not me. Okay, so maybe this place isn't for me; but a girl can dream right? This place is perfect for someone like… '_Don't even go there Steele'_ my subconscious warned

"I know; I'm so jealous right now, ugh. So, what's the plan?" Kate grumbled effectively snapping me out of my reverie

"I'm planning on staying in the hotel to rest for a bit; they have a pool" I said casually

"Hmmm spa, lovely" I hear her say begrudgingly

"No, just the pool" I giggled taking a sip of my drink

"How long are you staying there?"

"Two days; tonight and tomorrow then I leave the next day to Cannes where I'll probably stay for another two days" I said feeling the hollow pain in my chest, as I realize that I have no choice but to go back after this. '_Says who? You're still visiting your mom in Georgia. Browse for possible employment in New York, DC and Chicago… the possibilities are endless Steele'_ my subconscious reasoned.

"When are you coming back?"

"After I visit mom in Georgia; she's been pretty upset and worried" Coming back… just to pick up my stuff, I thought to myself, but wisely choose not to say it out loud

"She's not alone; I'm with her. I'm upset coz I'm here in dreary Seattle while you're somewhere nice and cozy. Been worried about you Steele… I have this feeling… oh never mind, just tell me what you're up to" she said

"Touristy stuff Kate; I'll swing by the Monte Carlo casino after this or maybe tonight; I won't gamble, just look, then I don't know, eat more food, then go see Monaco Cathedral, Napoleon Museum and of course the palace"

"Sounds fun. Have you met any cute Italian or Frenchmen yet?" she piped

"Ugh Kate"

"Steele you're not a saint"

"Not talking about that" I said rather harshly

"Alright, alright I just thought… well dating someone else is a rather great form of revenge" she said pacifyingly

"I don't want to talk about him Kate. Please drop it"

"Fine"

"Sorry; I just… well"

"I know Steele, I understand…" Kate said softly "did you get me some souvenirs?" she added effectively ending _that _subject for which I am very thankful

"Yes, I got you something in Paris and some other trinkets in Italy" I said and she squealed excitedly.

**~oooOooo~**

Thank goodness she insisted that I bring at least one bikini, otherwise I would have no choice but to go for another walk. Not that I mind, but I've been walking and walking; it's all I've done the past week. Diving is something else, something different. Something relaxing and somewhat rejuvenating. I spent the rest of the afternoon day soaking and relaxing in the hotel's heated pool after my conversation with Kate and then walked around the harbor and toward the famous casinos. The street is surrounded by shops that sell everything from luxury designer goods to souvenir shops that sell anything from formula-one merchandise to small trinkets. The other side of the strip is surrounded by boats; seriously beautiful and no doubt really expensive boats. Again, a girl can dream.

I spent the next day doing yet another round of touristy stuff; mainly driving around the streets of Monaco in a car that looks like a train. It's a short drive, but nonetheless entertaining, as in a short while I got to see all that Monaco has to offer: Cathedral, the palace, the grand prix and of course the casinos. The other half of my day is spent on the beach, as well as preparing for the next day and next destination: Cannes where I will be spending my last three days of my self-embarked odyssey then back to reality. The last three days in Cannes will be spent a room overlooking the ocean. I planned on going all out: I took advantage of the great concierge service in the hotel by asking them to arrange air transportation, which serves two purposes: one, to see the city from the air; helicopter pilots also serve as tour guides, and two, it only takes fifteen minutes to get to Cannes.

After a rather spectacular air tour, I've arrived in the city of Cannes. Like Monaco, it's another charming city by the French Riviera and is home to the annual Cannes Film Festival. After checking into the hotel, I wonder around the city looking for a nice but reasonable café. The hotel I picked is sitting right across from the ocean. Wondering around with a map, a fully charged phone and camera in hand – total tourist I know, I wondered through the beautiful cobbled streets looking for a small café that serves brunch food. Ten minutes into the walk, I finally found a small café near the end of Gambetta Market in Rue Hoche that serves all kinds of pastries, and to my luck, tea. I walk inside ready for a typical Italian or French restaurant; but this restaurant serves what they claim as the best seafood pasta in town and all sorts of pastries, from macaroons, to croissants, crèmes, cakes, tarts and even English muffins… French style blueberry muffins. I think my heart just crashed.

I don't know what's gotten into me, but here I am sitting in a small café with a glass of wine instead of tea, a plate of seafood pasta and a couple of pastries in front of me. I forced myself to devour the delicious food in front of me. The food is great, I sip the delicious wine, savoring the flavor and look at the last piece of the pastry I bought; a single piece of French style blueberry muffin. A seemingly innocent piece of bread, that somehow put me back to several months ago, six days after meeting a certain enigmatic CEO in Seattle who later walked into my work at Clayton's, and next thing I know we've scheduled to meet him in the hotel he's staying at for a photo-shoot and he's invited me to coffee after the shoot where he… ordered blueberry muffins. '_You know better than to reminisce!'_ my subconscious muttered

A week in Paris, more than two weeks in Italy, three days in Monaco, a helicopter ride to Cannes and yet here I am, stupidly looking at a single piece of muffin. A single piece of bread is enough to open the wounds I've managed to wrap tightly with gauze and morphine. '_Yeah and rather than walking away and off to the next café, you stayed bought one. What are you a masochist? Do you enjoy pouring acid on an open wound?'_ my subconscious sneered. She's given up tending to my seemingly dead inner goddess and resolved on locking her in the top of a tower to hibernate. I tried to relax myself, determined to not call and grovel to my best friend for the millionth time and resolved on frantically telling myself that _it doesn't hurt anymore, I'm away it's done, you're okay Steele, don't cry this is embarrassing it's just a fucking muffin… look at your travel guide and do something STAT _over and over to stop the dam, that had been closed for almost a month now, from ever opening again.

"Is this seat taken?" I hear a voice say. I look up to find a kind looking woman on her fifties, possibly sixties, smiling serenely at me as she waits for my answer. I look around, only to find the open tables 'weird'

"Don't worry my dear, I just noticed that you seem sad and maybe in need of a companion" she said. I look back at her and she smiles and I note her distinctly British accent

"I guess it's fine" I said. She smiles and pulls out the chair in front of me, sitting gracefully as she once again waves her hand for the waiter

"Une thés anglais et deux tartelettes au chocolat s'il vous plaît" she said with a smile. I look at her amazed, she speaks French. Wow

"American?" she said and I nodded

"I'm English; Sara Norwood" she said extending her hand, I looked at it for a moment and took it fearing the contact, but knowing it's rude to not shake. "Ana – Anastasia Steele"

"Pleased to meet you, Ana – Anastasia Steele. Now tell me, what did this poor little muffin do to you?" she said a hint of the smile playing in her face as she eyed me shrewdly

"I'm sorry but I don't think it's any of your —" I said but she interrupted me

"Business; yes, yes its none of my business" she said dismissively, as the server came to bring her order "well, I don't think alcohol is good for an innocent drifter like you; might I suggest tea?" she said motioning for the server to bring one more tea

"No I'm good tha—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer my dear; tea is better than wine; wine or any type alcohol is only good for celebrations not moping, trust me I know" she said vehemently in her British accent. Somehow her statement reminded me of Ray

"There it is… a smile lifts spirits, it's a wonderful day here in the French Riviera; well its always wonderful here" she said looking around before resting her green eyes onto mine as she continued "A gloomy mood isn't a welcome site" she said and I just smiled not wanting to reason, fearing that she might interrupt me once again. I have a feeling that I can't argue with this woman – she will find a way to win at every turn

"So what brings you here if you don't mind an old hag like me asking?" she said after the server arrived with my tea. The old woman – Sara - motioned for the server to take my wine glass away, again I didn't argue. She is right; alcohol is no good for a depressed person like me, it'll only open the flood gates. '_Halleluiah!'_ my subconscious agreed exasperatingly

"Vacation" I said sipping my tea "Thank you for the tea by the way, you?"

"Oh don't mention it my dear. I'm here on business actually" she said as she arranged the plates of pasties between us. She stopped at the single piece of muffin and gave me a look as she said "shall we throw this thing away?"

"I'm sorry?" I said distractedly

"The muffin my dear; you've been staring at it like it did something to you. Shall we throw it away or ill eat it and you can have one of my pastries" she said matter-of-factly

"Oh sure, you can have it if you want to" I said

"Good; now eat this éclair" she said bossily and before I can refuse her, she interrupted my by saying

"No! I insist. See, I find that when a woman is down or lonely, chocolate is the best answer" she said glaring at me. I'm not sure if I'm scared of her or because my body is on autopilot mode but I took the chocolate éclair and shoved it in my mouth, forgetting all of Kate's warnings about not talking and of course not accepting anything, especially food, from a stranger. The old woman called Sara smiled as if she's smiling fondly at a child; her child and I couldn't help it, I smiled back. The éclair, tastes so good, my taste buds are in heaven after the first bite

"Thank you" I said

"I'm glad you like it. Now, tell me what brings you in this part of the country?"

"Just vacation" I shrugged "Backpacking"

"Hmmm, no offense my dear, but a girl your age usually travels with a companion" she observed

"How can you be sure I don't have a companion?" I said

"Instinct. If you have a companion, then that companion either left you or is doing an awful job keeping you company that you have to resort to chatting with an old hag like me" she said briskly in her British accent that made me chuckle "now what brings a young drifter like you here?" she said titling her head

"I needed a vacation" I shrugged, it's true. '_More like you needed to get away'_ my subconscious sneered. She looked at me for a moment considering something, I think, and shrugged as if she knew what I was thinking and thought better than to voice it out

"Have you been enjoying yourself? May I ask which places have you visited or is this your first destination?" she said shrilly adeptly wiping her hands with her napkin; the muffin has all but disappeared

"Yes… it's been fun" I said unconvincingly. I'm not sure if 'fun' is the right word "I started in Paris then took the train to Italy, Milan, Florence, Rome, Naples then Monaco and here" I said enumerating all the places I've visited the past weeks, smiling at the good memories, momentarily pushing away the thoughts of… him and sighing at the thought that this trip is about to end. The look on Sara's face is almost comical, she looked as if she's confused or something stopped her from thinking. Finally she frowned and said

"Forgive me, you started of nicely, everything's in order Paris then Italy, but why go back to France? Oh well its none of my business" she said dismissively. '_Hmmm she's good. She got you there… well almost'_ my subconscious observed

"Monaco and Cannes were last minute decisions" I said

"Oh silly me; of course" she said "I take it you're a first time traveler aren't you?"

I smiled and sighed "yeah, my first time to leave the United States"

"You're not ready to go back" she said and I sighed once again and shook my head

"I don't want to go back to reality just yet"

"Well, you can't be a drifter forever. Everyone will worry, you'll lose your job, and everything in your apartment will rot" she said, almost scolding me. I just looked at her and smiled tightly, well she doesn't know me; she doesn't know that I don't have a lot of reasons to get back… no job, an apartment, yes, but that really isn't mine and not everyone will care if I left and never returned

"Drifter" I said mirroring the words. Perfect word for me I guess, though the word runner will rival it.

"Hmmm" she said again eyeing me shrewdly and again she already knows the answer. I just smiled acknowledging her internal assessment but not voicing it out loud

"I suppose you lost your job" she finally said

"Yeah; got laid off actually hence the vacation or drifting as you call it" I sighed

"That's a shame, what do you do for a living?"

"I was an assistant editor at a publishing house in Seattle"

"Publishing you say? Hmmm so you worked with books?"

"I love books; English literature is my favorite and I'm not saying this because you're English" I said wistfully. Imagining myself in a library full of first edition… '_Don't even go there'_ my subconscious interrupted as the hallow pain in my chest stirred

"You're not alone on that my dear. Seems like fate brought us here together, how fascinating. Tell me, which books are your favorite aside from Jane Austen" she said rolling her eyes at the predictability that made me laugh

"Alright; Charles Dickens" I acquiesce and just like that, the seemingly awful start of my first day in Cannes changed into one of delight after meeting this woman. Sara Norwood is awfully smart and insightful woman, with a British sense of humor to boot. That and the fact that she knows and loves British Literature like no other, I find myself listening to her tirade about the Bonte sisters to Charles Dickens and even Jane Austen. I laughed at the colorful way she talked about the authors that we both adore, gaped after she presented me with her business card. The card says that Sara Norwood actually owns a publishing house in London

"What's this?" I said

"Well what do you think it is child? It's a bloody business card" she exclaimed

"I know that but…" I said rattled

"Well, I have an appointment, so I should go; this is my way of telling a drifter like you that fate has a funny way of showing us the next direction to take"

"Where did you get that? English proverb?" I said chuckling

"No, old hags know better" she winked "now, should you decide to not go back to Seattle, and I don't know you that well, dear, but you look as if you're not ready to face your reality. So, I'm giving you another option; a new reality, a new life and maybe a job if you pass my interview" she said haughtily

"What makes you think I'll take you up on it old hag?" I smirked, wincing as I try to take the check but her hand slapped mine.

"That's because drifters drift, a smart woman such as yourself doesn't deserve that title and a British literature lover like you should really visit London" she said standing up and motioning for me to follow. I stood up and walked with her to the exit "well I should go; might I suggest that you visit the Île Sainte-Marguerite, it's the single most interesting place for tourists around here" she said in a way that made me chuckle

"It's on top of my list"

"Good, and Anastasia, think about my offer" she said seriously as she turned and headed the other way.

* * *

******Missy's Notes: **Thank you for your continued support on both my stories! Your reviews, follows and favorites keep me going even when I'm having shittiest week (real life suck! boo!). On this chapter, you were all introduced to Ana's would-be friend, mentor & teacher Sara Norwood, founder and original owner of Norwood Publishing. Picture the great Helen Mirren as Sara (I wanted Meryl Streep but she isn't British). I hope the old hag made a lasting impression on you guys. The other context of this chapter is that Ana is having what I call a _'why Georgia'_ moment which basically means, she's trying to figure out what she will do next as she doesn't see herself going back to Seattle anymore. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and as always please forgive my errors.

_Reviews are appreciated! :)_


	8. Chapter 8: London

**Missy's Notes**: Thanks for your continued support and for patiently waiting for this update. I have been hell bent on concluding my first story, _A different shade of Steele_ that I had to stop writing on this one. The wait is over, as promised, I shall be focusing on finishing this story before I start the new chapter on our dear protagonists love & kinky lives. Please do let me know what you think as I value each of your opinion, comments and/or suggestions (hopefully no violent reactions). The theme of this chapter is all about J.K Rowling's quote below, I do hope you like it and that you can relate to it. Please forgive my errors (grammars, typos and all) I'm only human. Happy reading!

E. L James owns this amazing trilogy (I borrowed one of her lines in FSOG)

**Chapter 8: London**

_"There's nothing better when something comes and hits you and you think 'YES'!" __― __J.K. Rowling_

Île Sainte-Marguerite is a charming island a few miles of the coast of Cannes. The island is famous for its prison fortress, _the Fort Royal_ in which the so-called Man in the iron Mask, the illegitimate brother of Louis XIV at least according to Voltaire and elaborated by Alexandre Dumas in the final installment of his _Three Musketeer_s saga, was held in the 17th century. I walk on the coastline enjoying the unusually warm weather. The tour captain told me and the other tourists that the weather here this time of the year usually is gloomy, therefore we were lucky. After a quick tour of the prison and the small community, here I am, walking and taking pictures of the beach with the other tourist nearby. Yes, its a beautiful day, I guess I can call myself lucky after all. I was far from feeling_ 'lucky'_ this morning when I stupidly opened the box of gloom because of an innocent pastry. I wallowed on one corner of the cafe, staring at it like an idiot until I had some sort of a divine intervention. The thought made me chuckle. Maybe even God is tired of my endless moping that he decided to send me a guardian angel, in a form of a woman who walked in out of nowhere. An old hag as she liked to call herself and introduced herself to a _drifter_ as she called me. The old hag had saved my day by casually joining and engaging me into a conversation about everything from books to my travels and even what I should do with my life rather than _'drifting.'_ I smiled at the word and at how it perfectly described me or at least, what I'm currently doing. Drifting aimlessly. My heart swelled as she even offered to help me start over by giving me a job though I have to go to London and I have to pass her interview. Was she serious? I don't know but it's a nice gesture; a nice distraction.

I wonder around aimlessly until I find myself in-front of a door. Thinking it's some kind of a souvenir shop, I open it and walk-in in the hopes that I may be able to find more trinkets for my friends. Boy I'm so wrong; It's not a souvenir shop. The room I walk into is dimly lit; red paint and dark wood that made the custom storage system that occupied one of the walls. One side of the room is occupied by an antique looking bed; a four-poster bed with red satin sheets, while the other side of the room lay a bench. oh no. This room is all too familiar. I've been here many times; almost every night until one night when it all stopped. I feel my heart stop beating and at the same time shiver run down my spine and instantly I feel cold. When I look down and find myself naked except for my underwear – just my panties. _Oh no!_ What am I doing here? why? how? Just then the door behind me opens and I see a shadow approach

"Have you forgotten what you're supposed to do once you're in here?" I hear his cold and dominant voice say. Immediately I feel my knees buckle into the submissive position, knees apart, hands on either side of my thighs and eyes down cast… I feel my heart beating faster and faster as fear engulf me. He is going to punish me and it will hurt. Oh dear God, how did I get here?

"Yes" he said correctly reading my thoughts "You're too late for that, stand up and walk towards that bench" he commanded. Helpless and scared to the core, I automatically obey. I blink and I'm instantly on the bench, shackled and at his mercy

"Do you know why you're here Anastasia?" he said menacingly

"No sir"

"You lied… you know I hate being lied to" he whispered menacingly

"No sir, I didn't -" I tried to say but he didn't let me finish

"I don't remember allowing you to speak Anastasia"

"Sir, please… I… I'm sorry" I whispered fearing the cold, dark and cruel sound of his voice

"You voided our contract Anastasia; our relationship is purely dominant and submissive. It doesn't include hearts and flowers. You broke that unwritten rule tonight by saying those words and for that, you need to be punished. I will hit you 30 times Anastasia and I want you to count for me" I couldn't respond; it's as if he's hit me with his bamboo cane straight in the chest and then my gut. I closed my eyes and waited with bated breath as I feel his hand caressing my behind and then it's gone. I brace myself to the coming onslaught, half my mind is guessing which tool he decided to use while the other half waited for the pain until…

"NO!" I scream on top of my lungs and felt myself jolting up. I open my eyes and find myself covered with sweat and in a different room. Cream walls instead of red; I'm laying on a comfortable couch instead of laying face down on a wooden bench. I'm in my well lit hotel room in Cannes and the noise emanating the television and the cars outside most likely woke me up from my slumber. A dream, I was having a dream, _'a fucking nightmare'_ I hear my subconscious sneer, she's never too far away. I stood up and walk towards the bathroom to wash away the sweat and hopefully Christian Grey and the memories that came with him. I lay in the tub for I don't know how long thinking and contemplating about the dream, and more importantly, about what I should do next. This trip is almost over yet nothing's changed: I still love him and he's hurt me by… pushing me away.

All those weeks of traveling were all just a distraction; an escape from the reality, reality that I am grieving and that I am hurting. Going back home means going back to an empty bed, nights of depending on alcohol to sleep, the potential howling and wallowing that accompanies each shot, each bottle of wine or vodka and most of all: going back to the place where I see his face at each turn and hear his voice at each sound, the place where he will continue to haunt me at each turn. Even when I'm a thousand miles away, on a different continent, he still manages to somehow work his magic around me. What more if I'm actually six or eight blocks away? No —I'm not ready and I'm not sure if I will ever be ready to face everything that I left, it seems. What do I do? Cancel Seattle, and then what? Stay and find a job in Georgia with my mom instead? It doesn't feel right even though Georgia is three thousand miles away from Seattle… why? More importantly, why does that conversation with a stranger keep replaying in my fried brain? I think about the dream again… The serene time I spent in the Île Sainte-Marguerite that quickly morphed into the memory of what happened that night, my last night in Escala; the last night I spent with him. I shudder as I feel the piercing pain in my chest. I shake my head to hopefully get rid of the pain and settled on replaying my encounter with Sara Norwood, our conversation and why she approached me in the first place, the single piece of blueberry muffin, her business card and then London.

London. London, England. _'Do you remember something Steele? I know I do' _my subconscious prodded, making her appearance yet again. She's right of course, there's something about that dream that somehow connects Sara Norwood, London, a pasty and him. I just can put a finger on it, yet. _'Steele! You can be quite thick sometimes'_ my subconscious said impatiently tapping her heels as if the answer is very obvious until, miraculously, another memory slips. The memory is part of that day when the enigmatic Christian Grey invited me for coffee after the photo shoot I helped arranged for Kate as finishing touch for the graduation article she's writing. He got us coffee, tea and the blueberry muffin; he even offered some to me when he caught me starring which was officially the start of our conversation. We talked about me, then him, his family, his sister who was studying in Paris. I remember musing about Paris and he asked if I have ever been and if I wanted to go

_"To Paris? of course… but its England I would rather visit. It's the home of Shakespeare, the Brontë sisters, Thomas Hardy… I'd like to see the places that inspired these people to write such wonderful books" *****_

There it is… England. The connection. _'Finally!' _my subconscious said exasperatedly clapping both her hands, God I love and hate her. As weird and twisted as it sounds, it felt right. London, England. _Jeez,_ it's the one place that I'd looked forward to visiting after collage, why didn't I think of that? Why did I go to freaking Paris and not England in the first place? _'Because you're too busy playing stupid and blind'_ my subconscious sneered but I ignored her as I hurriedly got out of the tub, not caring if I'm soaking wet and walk towards the small closet to retrieve my jacket where I remembered stashing the card carelessly on one of the pockets, thinking that, that old woman was probably just kidding. I mean, why would a stranger offer me a job? But, maybe this Sara Norwood is right, _fate has a way of showing one which direction to take next _or something like that, but no matter, I'm facing the fact that I know deep down, I am not ready to go back and face the grim reality I left back home, I won't ever be ready to face the one place that brought me nothing but misery – all because of some guy. Its cowardice I know, I'm only human and humans shy away from anything that could bring harm to oneself and I know, I can't be a drifter and I can't run forever, so I'm taking this other option, a new reality; maybe a new life, hopefully in London.

* * *

How do I fucking make this right if my supposedly _'finest'_ fucking team who are supposed to fucking provide me the fucking finest service money has to fucking offer have no intel on Anastasia's whereabouts? Zero. I grumble to myself as I ignore whoever is around me, preferring to keep my mouth shut for fear of causing another round of clusterfuck around those around me, namely, my family. I recalled the conversation with Welch & Taylor regarding their latest priority assignment, which is supposedly really fucking simple: find Anastasia. Tracking people is supposed to be easy with today's technology especially when you have a team of sniffing dogs to track your every move but apparently, it's not when one decides to just… leave the United States and go… somewhere. Air France has over 800 destinations worldwide and tracking a beautiful brunet with clear blue eyes is nearly impossible. In other words, a fucking clusterfuck. Nearly a week has passed since I realized she was gone and all my team can find is: _nothing_. No-fucking-thing except for the many possible cities she could be in.

She could be fucking anywhere, alone somewhere. The thought of her alone in a foreign country gives me chills. Is she safe? Is she well? Is she eating? I fucking hope so. I gulped at the thought of something bad happening to her; it'll be my fucking fault. _'Glad to know you have a fucking conscience, Grey.'_ Has she met someone? Is she with someone? Though I highly doubt it, the thought alone is enough to me growl. She's mine. Christ, what the fuck am I thinking? She's no longer mine, _'then why are you looking for her? Or better yet, why are you thinking of her every fucking time?'_ a part of me thought. Yes. Why? What is it with her?

"Christian? Hello? Did you hear what I said?" I hear my little sister say snapping me out of the singular fucking erratic thought of Anastasia. I stared at Mia who is pouting her childish pout to me while everyone else simply stared, my parents in various expression of concern and Elliot expectant

"What?"

"Ugh" Mia rolled her eyes, huffed

"I'm sorry. What is it?" I said pacifyingly. _There, we're even; now talk_

"Well, I was telling Elliot that since I am leaving for France is less than a week I figure we should go out one more time. A friend of a friend recently opened an art gallery in Seattle, he is hosting a photo exhibit two days from tonight featuring an up and coming local landscape photographer from Portland. I hear the guy is good according to Mark who owns the gallery, his collections has been well received in the state of Washington. His first collection sold so fast that the photographer decided to do more" she trailed

"You point?" I said dryly

"My point is I'm going back to France in less than a week and won't see you two until summer so I want you two to go with me to this photo exhibit to support a friend of a friend. Elliot already agreed" she said indignantly, pouting adorably as if she's still four

"Mia" I hear my mother admonishingly; shaking her head at my sister. I hear Elliot chuckle, we all know nothing stops Mia Grey whenever she wants something… except for me

"What time is the exhibit?" I say dryly

"7-ish and its five minutes from your place. Please Christian, say you'll go please?" she said in her best puppy dog impersonation

"Come on bro, it'll be fun" he said unconvincingly "besides, we won't see our little sister till summer so might as well suck it up right?" he chortled while Mia scowled and childishly stuck her tongue out

"Fine" I hear myself say

"Yay!" Mia clapped both her hands. I roll my eyes.

_'It'll be a great distraction Grey and maybe help a local artist'_ I tell myself. Besides, it'll please my perpetually worried mother. It's the least I can do for the people who given me a shelter and patiently put up with a fucked up person like me

* * *

After an hour-long conversation with my airline to re-arrange me flight itinerary, another hour-long conversation with both my parents both of whom resolved on letting me be and then a longer conversation (well, it sounded more like a debate than an actual conversation), with my best friend and second mother, Kate who let's just say, had the worst reaction than my parents. She is furious and worried that I had spoken to a stranger in Cannes and even planning on following the said stranger to London, England instead of going back home. I opted on keeping my mouth shut rather than telling her I wanted to say that I didn't have a home. She argued that I may be walking into a trap; I on the other hand, fueled by the dream and the epiphany, argued that I may be walking into quite possibly my dream job and towards something right. Needless to say, after the debate, my best friend reluctantly agreed but not after taking the full info of the name and the card Sara had given to me and like a loyal friend, she helped me find a hotel and even verified the address in the card from our ever reliable source, Google.

Twenty four hours later, here I am, standing in front of a brick building, examining it like an idiot, as if its a painting or a really interesting sculpture. Norwood publishing house actually existed. What a relief. My eyes kept darting to the card I'm holding and then back to the small building that looked like a house converted into an office space. I wanted to make sure that what I'm seeing is really is true. As if the huge _'Norwood Publishing House est. 1975'_ the letters painted in gold on black background paint isn't enough. The building is old – well, everything in this country seems old; a testament of how old this country is just like France and Italy and probably the rest of Europe. The only thing urban here are the sound of the cars passing and the eclectic style of Londoners passing by and going about their days. I'm in London, England; the modern Babylon as Benjamin Disraeli, the Earl of Beaconsfield, once said. For regular tourist, London, is a busy, lively and diverse metropolis where the architectural buildings are a sight all together. It is the home of big ben and Westminster abbey, the royal family, the double decker buses, guards wearing big fluffy hats and refuse move; they stand in the royal gates like statues. For a literature tourist like me, its heaven or the holy grail of literature depending on one's preference for literature and I have been diehard fan of the English Literature for so long so for me, I'm on the holy grail of literature. It's the home of Shakespeare, the Bronte sisters, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen and countless of more artists. I smiled at the thought that if I nail this interview, I may be able to call this my new home. _Epiphany, please don't do me wrong_, I prayed as I took a deep breath and started to collect my belongings prepared to take the steps towards the Norwood Publishing House

"Ah! The drifter has decided to stop drifting. Excellent" I hear a voice of a woman behind me say. Abruptly, I turned around to see the kind face of Sara Norwood and a gentleman that could pass for a college professor. Sara is smiling her serene smile, like a mother to a daughter or a teacher to a student, depending on one's view point, while the other man, wearing thick specs eyed me with ill-concealed curiosity

"Don't worry my dear, I'd call myself an idiot if I don't feel scared and unsure if I follow an old hag's advice after that old hag comes up to me and talk to me as if she knows me" she added boisterously

"Ms. Norwood" I stammered though I felt myself smile amidst the fear and anxiety

"Please" Sara rolled her eyes and waved a hand "Sara, come on Ana – Anastasia Steele, oh by the way, this chap over here is Alexander James Core, Alex this Ana – Anastasia Steele" she said haughtily. Alex grimaced at Sara but turned to smile warmly and extended a hand

"The hag is a bit tired, forgive her impatience, please to meet you Ms. Anastasia Steele," he smirked and I smiled, I have a feeling I'd work well with him

"Oh shut it, you wanker! Now let's get you inside Ana, we all need some tea, I know I do. Oh and yes, welcome to dreary London my dear" she said impatiently opening the door as me and Alex followed her lead.

"I suspect you're here for the job that I had offered you" she said expectantly while we walked inside the simple yet elegant and neatly kept small and it reminded me so much of SIP; I immediately liked it and looked forward on sitting on one of the desks

"Yes. If the offer still stands" I said I feel Alex's eyes burn as we followed Sara towards the end of the hall

"Oh it does, Ana. The question is, if you qualify, which basically means if you pass my interview" she challenged

"That's why I'm here" I said fueled by confidence from my epiphany, as I enter her office

"Excellent, we're about to find out" she said mysteriously motioning for me to take a seat. I nodded placing my luggage by the door, retrieved the folder containing my updated resume that I've updated and printed back in Cannes, handed it to her and took my seat. Sara examined it for a moment, while I'm left looking around the library like office. Walls upon walls of nothing but books. Some looked like first editions while the others I suspect, are copies of the company's published novels. When my eyes finally returned back to my would be employer, I swallowed as I find her no longer examining my resume, instead, she is eyeing me intently. Trying my best to maintain eye-contact, I smiled tentatively, worried now that my epiphany is nothing but a misguided attempt to escape my reality. After what felt like forever, she smiled her mysterious smile and finally said:

"Ms. Steele, tell me, what kind of job did you expect me to offer you?"

* * *

I watched Downton Abbey, re-listened to my HP audible as reference for my Britism's. Not sure I'm doing it right, I may need some help on this. So to my British readers (SusieCC, I'm looking at you), it would be lovely if you let me know if I'm doing fine :)

_Reference:_

_*Quote/line taken from E. L James' Fifty shades of Grey_


	9. Chapter 9: Gravity

**Missy's Notes:** Thank you once again for your reviews, follows, favorites and PM's. I really appreciate your support on my stories. I hope you like this chapter and please forgive my errors. As usual, your comments, questions, suggestions & reactions (hopefully none too violent) matters so please do let me know what you think. Thanks to my Brit friends who sent me web links on common Britism, you guys are awesome! :-)

E L James owns this amazing trilogy (I'm just exploring the many possibilities of 'what-if')

**Chapter 9: Gravity**

_"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another" ~Anatole France_

"Ms. Steele, tell me, what kind of job do you expect me to offer you?"

_'Okay, concentrate Steele; you've got this.'_ I tell myself, squaring my shoulders, looking my interviewer and would-be boss in the eye, as she scrutinizes my every move

"I'm open to any opportunities Ms. Norwood. At this point I'm ready and willing to learn anything and everything you can teach me," I respond truthfully

"Anything?" she muses

"Yes, anything, Ms. Norwood. I see this as an opportunity for me to start anew as well as a place where I can grow as a person and further my career in publishing"

"So you are taking this interview rather seriously Anastasia" she nods

"Yes Ms. Norwood. I want this job"

"You want this job because you're not ready to go home" she states matter-of-factly

"Yes and No; yes I want this and no, I'm not ready to go home"

"That is my concern my dear. You stopped drifting; now you're running away. What this means to me is that: yes, you now want a job; something to do, a place to stay, all of which are convenient to you, yourself alone. I don't see any reason why I should hire, let alone trust a person who is only running away. What if one day, you wake up and realize that you want to go home: back to Seattle, back to your friends and back to the person you are running from"

"Oh" is all I can say. She has a point. How can she trust me? Do I trust her enough to want this? I'm not sure but I do want the job. Running away is apparently different from drifting. Again another point, yes, I am running away – sort of, but the thing is; there's no reason for me to go back to Seattle. I do have my friends and my Dad but nothing more. I never really had a life except for that life with him… he was my life but it all changed when he decided to push me away. I lost everything in Seattle when he terminated that contract there's no reason to go back and what better way than to start a life somewhere? This is supposed to be it; the ticket to a new life but I guess I'm just fooling myself. I feel my face fall and my hope beginning to vanish. Stupid epiphany. What am I doing here? I ask myself as I continue to gape at the woman in front of me who is eyeing me with a look that I don't understand. Perhaps concern or is it pity?

"You see, what I am offering is not just a job; it's a challenge. This challenge comes with a huge burden so to speak. I need someone who, is not only up for the challenge, meaning, I need someone willing to take everything I throw at him or her with enthusiasm. Someone who willing to stay, for good; someone who will not abandon their responsibility for personal reason or personal glory Most important is that, I need a person honest and truthful that can trust completely. If I make a mistake and hire the wrong person, it will be a waste of precious time for all parties involved" she says after an awkward silence

"You think I'm lying? You think I'm not… qualified?" I say in horror

"No Anastasia, I know that you're not being truthful, my dear, there's a difference. I can tell that you are one of those people who cannot lie easily. However, I can understand you're… reluctance to be truthful with me. After all, I am a stranger. As for your qualifications, do not doubt yourself my dear child; you are most certainly qualified. The question is: are you the right person for this job"

"I'm sorry" I say. This isn't going according to plan

"Don't be silly my dear; its natural! I wouldn't trust me if I met me" she scoffs and I chuckle. "Tell me, why are you here?" she smiles kindly, her green eyes prodding me, as if giving me another chance

I shrug "I didn't want to go home but at the same time I know I have to stop all this… drifting as you call it. I know that sooner or later I need go back to my life but I don't want to go home, I'm scared to go home, especially after that morning in Cannes. When you walked into that café and the opportunity presented itself, it seemed like fate. And, quite frankly, I need a job. I honestly refused to consider it at first because I'm not supposed to trust anyone" I pause thinking about my dream… "I have a feeling… I can't explain it but I know that I'm supposed to be here rather that in France or Italy… I don't know why I went to those places in the first place when all I even wanted growing up, is to see the places that inspired my favorite authors. I'm finally here and it feels… right" I say more to myself. I look up to see green eyes regarding me with approval. She looks at me with satisfaction rather than being weirded-out by my babbling. I don't know what she's thinking but after what feels like eternity, I decide that the epiphany is simply my dream of going to England. Nothing more. At the end of the day, reality sets in: I need to go back home and face harsh reality which sucks and it sucks.

"Look I'm sorry to waste your time Ms. Norwood" I say as I start to get up and collect my bags "I don't know what's gotten into me, I just thought… oh well" I shrug not knowing. Yes, this sucks.

"Where are you going?" she asks disbelievingly

"Clearly I wasted your time showing up unannounced. I'm sorry for that, I err... I don't know what got into me" I pause mid stand

"You wanted the job I offered to you Ana; that's what got you here, that and more it seems which is a good start. You're at the point where you're tired of what you're doing and you simply want to go back to normalcy but you're scared to go back to the one place…" she says

"You don't know what you're saying and do you always make such… blunt observations?" I ask a bit agitated "are you a shrink or something? This is supposed to be a job interview" to my surprise, the hag starts to laugh

"Good Lord no! I'm no charlatan. You're just easy to read my dear, please take a seat"

"Jeez… not you too" I say exasperatedly rolling my eyes much to the hag's delight. Am I that easy to read? Everyone from my parents to my best friend and even… _'Don't even go there'_ I hear my subconscious hiss. I sigh, but concede and take my seat, half curious, half irritated

"That bloke you love must've mangled you beyond repair for you to decide to leave and never go back" she says bluntly yet again. I can't respond, she's right of course. I'm mangled beyond repair; a fucked up drifter, all because of a bloke… a beautiful bloke

"That would be an understatement," I concede trying to fight the tears that are forming, blurring my view. I blink and a few tears drop, which I hurriedly and hopefully discreetly, wipe away with the back of my hand. Sara sighs and is back to scrutinizing me intently, as if contemplating something in her mind. After a moment, she shakes her head and whispers:

"Seems I was right all along" to herself

"Uh… I'm sorry?" I say dumfounded

"Oh I was talking to myself my dear; seems I was right all along. Fate has a funny way of showing us which direction to take or what one should do next…" she says letting the thought trail, shaking her head yet again, but this time she smirks at me "so what do you say?"

"Say about what?" I say astonished and completely weirded-out

"About my offer, the challenge? The job is yours, my dear. Though I should warn you: it's no ordinary job and you will work your tails off on this one" she says haughtily

* * *

"I knew it Steele, you're never coming back. I knew it and I know why, don't even try denying it!" I suppress a sob. I'm in the middle of a crowded deli shop grabbing lunch talking to my best friend who has decided to run away from Seattle because of that Grey fucker. A few weeks ago, she surprised me with her decision to go back-packing in Europe and now, a month later, after delaying her return twice, the first time because she wanted to see Monaco and the second to go to London to meet with the stranger she met in Cannes. Now, she calls me to let me know that she's accepted a job with a publishing company in London. I knew it: she's running away… permanently, all because of the weird fucker, Christian Grey. Christ, I hope I never cross paths with that fucker. If I do, I'm going to skin him alive. This is all his fault

"Aww Kate! Don't look at it that way please? Just be happy for me and no I'm not denying anything. I know what you're thinking Kate; but remember your promise… please? It's not about him; it's about me" Ana begs on the other line. Trust Ana to try to make turn things around into a positive light.

"Whatever. I haven't crossed paths with him, so we're good, at least for now. Listen, I am happy for you; but I'm not happy about the distance!" I try to protest

"It's for the best Kate, look it's my dream job., Norwood Publishing Company, though small, is a perfect fit for me. I'm happy and excited, Sara said she will teach me everything, the in's and out of the publishing business and more. She's a nice person Kate, I'll introduce you to her next time we do face time or Skype" she tells me excitedly. I feel less worried, for the first time in what feels like months, after that night I came home to find her on the kitchen floor sobbing her heart out, my best friend sounds like the sweet innocent Ana I came to love while we were in college

"I don't like the distance; I can't drive there anytime I want and we won't be able to hang out anymore, and what are you going to do with your things? At least come home one last time and I'll help you pack," I say hopefully.

"Ahhh… err, I already spoke to my dad about that" she begins and my heart sinks. One thing I know about Ana is that she is stubborn as hell

"Steele, you could've just told me you know, I could easily hire someone to pack your things and send them to you" I say

"I knew of all people you would be more hurt than angry. Kate, I'm so sorry" she sniffs, oh dear

"Don't do that! You'll set me off and I'm in a crowded place" I start to protest hoping to distract her from crying. I've seen and heard enough, hearing her happy and excited is better than wallowing.

"I'm sorry Kate" she says again. I can't see my salad anymore; my eyes are glassy. I'm going to miss the hell out of her, but I suppose its better this way. I take a deep breath and blink, pouring liquid salt into my salad in the process and say:

"It's not like I can't visit you right?" Silently wiping my own tears

"Right. We'll talk and Skype and email everyday if you want. I'll send you my cellphone number once I get one and you already have my address. Nothing's going to change Kate, you're still my sister, my best friend," she promises.

"Good. What about my trinkets?" I say changing tact. She's right; distance is nothing. I hope

"I'll ship them to you of course, along with the things I got for Ethan and Jose" she says pacifyingly. As if souvenir stuff will help comfort me from losing my best friend and roommate. Shit! It's going to be boring and I'm going to miss her cooking.

"That reminds me, you know the guys were expecting you to be home – a week ago, I still don't know what to tell them and I'm meeting them tonight. Its Jose's exhibit, not sure if you remember"

"Oh" is all she can say and I know what her silence means. She's feeling guilty and therefore she's crying. Again. Shit!

"Don't worry about it Steele, I'll think of something. Expect a call from both of them or their presence next time we do face time"

"I'm really sorry Kate" she says unable to control her sobs

"Oh come on, Steele! Look, its okay. I'm happy for you and I'm sure the guys will be too. Otherwise, I'll kick their asses for you. We've just been worried about you, that's all."

"I know. There's nothing to be worried about anymore, I promise. Please tell Jose I'm sorry for not being there tonight."

"I will. Just… take care of yourself okay? I'm always here for you, just call me okay?"

"I will. Thank you Kate… for everything"

"No sweat, Steele! Listen I gotta go, Ethan is on the other line" I say as I hear my phone beep, it's my brother

"Okay… say hi for me and sorry… again, talk to you soon Kate"

"Yeah later" I say just as the line goes dead, I immediately answer the other call

* * *

I am pleasantly surprised and a bit hopeful to find that the photographer my little sister is talking about, is none other than Jose Rodriguez. The same photographer who took pictures of me in Portland along with Katherine Kavanagh and a certain brunette named Anastasia Steele, who, of course later became my submissive until I fucking threw it all away by beating and punishing the shit out of her. Oh let's not forget the fact that I terminated the contract and now she's fucking gone and no one except maybe her friends know her whereabouts. I am here at the _'Jose Rodriguez: fading colors photo exhibit'_ exchanging pleasantries with my sister's friend and personal curator/guide, Mark Leighton, son of one of my business associates, while my siblings raid the bar while mingling with their friends. As usual, Mia knows practically every guest, while Elliot is shamelessly flirting with one of the co-curators. I am aware that there is a slim chance running into her… if she's back, which I highly doubt she is, since none of my people has had a sighting of her on any of the surveillance at the apartment she shares with Katherine Kavanagh. Which leaves me with two options: one, if by some miracle I find her mingling with her friends, and I will go and talk to her. I continue to have those vivid dreams of her, because deep down I know I did something wrong, something painfully wrong and it haunts me every night. My second option, if she isn't here, is to engage the photographer in a conversation and with the hopes of garnering information about Anastasia's whereabouts. I need to know where she is and if she is safe. Either way, I'm walking out of here carrying some sort of news about her. I will find her, _'and then what?' _I hear myself say. Christ, I'm one fucked up son of a bitch.

"Christian, did you find anything interesting yet?" I hear Mia ask as she approaches us. Part of the reason why we are here is to try to find something we can give to our parents for their wedding anniversary. Mia is the ring-leader; she is always the one who comes up with options each year and once its decided, it's up to me or Elliot to pay. This year, Mia is all about décor as my parents recently renovated the sitting room in their house.

"Too colorful" I mutter dryly. She rolls her eyes

"But they're all nice!" she exclaims. "I like the beach one though that doesn't suit the décor mom chose, plus it's already sold" she adds with a pout

"I'm sure there are other options, Mia" Michael winks as he turns to me "Mr. Grey the concept this exhibit is based on what they call _the ombre effect_; that's why the artist calls it 'the fading colors.' The artist decided to display his most colorful pieces in front and as we go towards the end…"

"The colors fade" I finish. I'm not a fucking imbecile

"Right. I think you'll find the most interesting pieces when we reach the softer pieces which I think starts in the middle and towards the back" he says. I decide to bite my tongue for fear that I might lash out at this fucker who is constantly underestimating me

"So the last pieces are actually black and white" I say I look at Mia who shrugs

"Yes Sir"

"All the pieces are landscape though" I say barely interested

"Yes Mr. Grey, the artist prefers landscape photography though his finale pieces are not landscape and personally, they are by far the most impressive pieces as it shows his versatility" he says proudly

"You make it sound as if they are the coveted pieces" the fucker is trying to build anticipation and excitement. Fucking amateur; as if I need that with Mia; if she finds something suitable I'm pretty damn sure it'll go home with us

"They are, Mr. Grey. Unfortunately, they are not for sale. The photographer reluctantly added them because of a happy accident. All of the pieces should be all landscape portraits, but the printing company accidentally printed the wrong photos, rather that the one's that should've been the original finale pieces. When we saw them, well, let's just say, we're glad the printing company made the error."

"But they're not for sale? Why?" Mia asked incredulously

"You're not the only one who asked us that question. We're still in the process of convincing the artist; we've had a lot of inquiries about them" smug bastard

"Okay, now I'm excited" Mia says while I roll my eyes.

Mia's excitement dissipated when she finds one of her friends and decides to mingle with them, leaving me with the fucking curator who most likely thinks I'm fucking gay like him, much to my annoyance. The pictures, however, start to change at each wall we pass. Of course the curator is right, even with less the glaring colors, the pictures still manage to captivate one's eyes. By the time we get closer to the back and towards the last pieces, Mia, who is behind me and with her friends, is already conflicted as to which picture to take. She's chosen and reserved about seven pieces and has begged the curator to schedule a private viewing with just the pieces she chose, so she can decide piece or pieces to take. I can't blame her; two pictures have already caught my eye. Both are pictures of the marina: one if of the Seattle Marina in the early morning, while the other is a view of the Puget Sound harbor, taken from a boat. There is something about the ocean, relaxing even for a fucker like me. Yes, I suppose the boy is good; his work may join the Trouton pieces in my office.

"I need to go to the restroom, I'll meet you guys in a bit" Mia says hurriedly as we turn towards the back wall and the last stop of the exhibit where the _'coveted'_ finale pieces are displayed by with a spotlight on each of the seven impeccable, yet simple works or art protected by understated black wooden frames. I feel myself freeze, almost as if someone electrocuted me. Hanging on the off white wall, protected by the simple black frames, are seven huge black and white pictures of a woman captured in seven different expressions: smiling happily, making a funny face, pouting adorably, scowling, winking while biting that delicious bottom lip, wistful, and finally, relaxed.

I know the woman all too well, or so I thought. The woman in these pictures is one that I hardly recognize. The woman I know, that I lived with, almost every night for six months, never smiled a carefree and utterly breathtaking smile that way she smiles is these pictures. She smiled an aloof smile when she was with me. She didn't make that adorable funny face because she wasn't allowed to; she feared that she might get punished. I've seen her pout, but only because she was about to cry when she thought I wasn't looking. I've never seen her wink playfully the way she did in one of the pictures. The last time I saw her scowl was when I terminated our contract. It was also the second to the last time that I saw her and the last time I saw her biting her trembling lip, trying her best not to cry; she was trying to hide the pain – its wasn't captivating; it was gut-wrenching. I've seen her wistful, many times – In my library or when I would find her alone in her room and the last was while we were dancing, the last night I got to hold her. She was never relaxed around me. Her most relaxed form is always when she's sleeping, which is surprisingly disturbing. She was never this happy with me; she was never carefree. She is physically beautiful, but these portraits are simply breathtaking. The curator was right; these are masterpieces – priceless masterpieces. Jose captured her in a different way than I knew her. She's an innocent, beautiful, relaxed, carefree girl. She looks breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. It feels like the hollow pain that had been in my chest for more than a month had evolved into a gaping hole that is increasingly growing, slowly but surely swallowing me whole. Fuck! What have I done? Why did I do this to her? How can I be so fucking stupid? I'm a fucked up selfish prick for destroying someone so… beautiful, someone so precious. I can understand why Jose won't sell these pieces, but it doesn't mean I can't try buying them, at whatever price.

"Oh my god!" a woman almost shrieks while another man starts to laugh

"Way to go man! Ana's going to kill you!" another guy says. I freeze once again. They are talking about her. Is she here? Hope swells within me. _Fuck! Very flowery Grey_

"She will if she was here. Where is she by the way?" another guy answers

The curator and I turn to face the three people I recognize as the photographer, Jose Rodriguez, and Katherine Kavanagh along with another guy that could pass as her twin brother, yes, another Kavanagh. They all stop laughing and talking when they see us.

"Ah… perfect timing! Mr. Grey, let me introduce you to the artist/photographer behind these masterpieces, Jose Rodriguez" curator says motioning to Jose who in turn starts to walk towards us.

"Mr. Grey, it's nice to see you" he says surprised, but nevertheless delighted

"We meet again Mr. Rodriguez, Ms. Kavanagh" I nod back at them but Katherine Kavanagh just glares at me murderously

"Mister Grey" she says scathingly, never breaking eye contact. She is both rude and arrogant. As if she's trying to control herself. She knows. She knows something, I can tell, but I choose to ignore her… whatever it is, I don't give a fuck. What I care about is finding the woman in these photos… what I care about is Jose's price on all of these photos… her photos.

"Impressive Mr. Rodriguez, I didn't know you were a professional" I say coolly

"Hardly, Mr. Grey" he says sheepishly

"Oh he's being modest Mr. Grey" Mr. Leighton interrupts while Jose makes a face. Christ! What is it with these kids? It's a fucking complement for crying out loud!

"Like I said Mr. Rodriguez, impressive. All the pieces are really remarkable and interesting, particularly these" I say and I hear someone snort. I would fucking bet my fortune that it's Katherine Kavanagh

"Thanks Mr. Grey, though that beautiful woman might actually kill me if she was here" he says blushing, while the other Kavanagh boy snorts and swallows his laughter.

"Why is that?" I ask curiously

"She doesn't know that I took these" he says and the fucker actually blushes again. I fucking knew it! He wants in her panties, the fucker.

"She looks rather familiar… have I seen her?" I ask and again, I hear someone snort. The same irritating person, I look up to see the murderous green eyes of Katherine Kavanagh meet mine. It's obvious that she's barely controlling herself. I also know that she knows something that the other two don't which most likely means she knows Anastasia and me. But how much does she know? I have to fucking find out if she knows the details of our arrangement.

"Yes Mr. Grey, that's Ana Steele. She helped on the shoot with you in Portland, you remember?" Jose questions eagerly, oblivious of the animosity of his female companion, while I am aware that Leighton is openly gaping at me.

"Oh… yes of course, where is she?" I say hoping that this fucker's eagerness will lead me back to her

"Nowhere near here" Katherine Kavanagh answers spitting the words like venom, while at the same time glaring at Jose, who stops to stare at her with curiosity, obviously wondering what happened to the happy laughing friend that she was before noticing me.

"A word Mr. Grey" she says, ignoring her companions as she continues to glare at me, not waiting for an answer as she starts to walk away

"Excuse me gentlemen" I say following her towards one of the rear exits.

"What the fuck are you doing here Grey? What? No one's heart to trample on tonight?" she says in such ferocity that my impassive mask immediately makes an appearance.

"I don't know what you mean Ms. Kavanagh" I say coolly

"Don't fuck with me Grey! You and I know that she's not here because of you" she almost shouting

"Where is she?"

"Like I said: nowhere fucking near here" she scoffs "why do you fucking care? What, you think the damage you caused isn't enough? You want to mangle her even more, cause more damage you… asshole!" I've had enough of her. I know she only knows little; if she knew everything, then that's blackmail material. She's not blackmailing me, she's just a girl protecting her friend from the fucker who mangled her friend's heart it seems.

"Where the fuck is she?" I say, returning her glare with one of my own

"Like I'll tell you! You would have to torture and kill me before I'd tell you and rest assured that my brother and Jose will not say anything either, so stop trying Grey and get the fuck out of here!"

"You don't want to mess with me, Ms. Kavanagh" I say threateningly, but she doesn't budge and simply retorts by rolling her eyes as she spats:

"Bite me, Grey."

* * *

**Missy's theme on this chapter is** John Mayer's song _Gravity_. It's a great song; relaxing melody and well-written lyrics that can have many interpretations depending on one's opinion. This chapter is a turning point on the lives of our favorite FSOG Characters. Ana found the job that will eventually change her life; she officially ran-away from her feelings and started a new life in London. Christian on the other hand, well, it's the beginning of his six year ordeal.

_Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! Reviews are appreciated :-)_


	10. Chapter 10: Half empty, half full

**Missy's notes:** Thanks again for the reviews & support. I blame my vacay and the holidays for the delay. Sorry. I intend for this story to be way shorter than ADSoS. I think I have more or less ten longer chapters after this one and I do hope that you continue to stay with me and our dear protagonists throughout the ride. Please let me know what you think and as always, forgive my errors. Happy reading!

E. L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 10: Half empty, half full**

_ "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." ~Lao Tzu_

_What am I turning myself into?_ I ask myself. First I'm a wuss and now I'm beginning to think I'm starting to become a fucked-up pussy. We're parked outside an apartment building in Pike Market District staring at it like a fucking lunatic. Well I'm staring at it like a fucking lunatic; Taylor is in the driver's seat patiently waiting for me to say the magic words. As if these concrete walls have the answer to my question. As if they can provide a solution to my problems, as if they can make the dreams stop... as if she will magically appear just by fucking staring. I've thought about my brief conversation, if anyone can call that a conversation, with Katherine Kavanagh. The logical part of me thinks that Ana deviated from the NDA, that I should act upon it; the rational part of me however, thinks that Kavanagh was right. I destroyed her; I broke her… and she's not me... she's not an emotionally fucked-up, alone and lonely; she has people to witness her… misery. Witnesses like the Kavanagh siblings and that photographer who fucking trails after her like a lovesick puppy. He's refusing point blank to sell the pictures; the seven priceless pictures of her. I'll have to deal with him and the gallery curator after this. I will not let anyone ogle her; she's mine!

The idea of talking to Katherine Kavanagh has been nagging me since that night at the gallery. Katherine knows where she is, she can help me get to where Ana is. She can help end the dreams and the hollow pain that's been slowly eating me. I have made last minute plans almost every night for the past three days, intending to talk to Katherine in the hopes of getting Ana's whereabouts but I end up staring at these same fucking walls instead. Welch said that it will take months for him and his team to get a single piece of Intel on Ana and even that is not certain, as its been months since she left Seattle. She could be anywhere. Waiting is not my forte. I don't wait; I pay enormous amounts of money to satisfy my impatience, but like what Welch pointed out: _'even with all the money, we still need to wait.'_ Every cell in my fucked up body wants to disagree, but he is fucking right. I have little choice other than to wait. The lack of choices however doesn't mean I don't have options. First option is to wait for Welch, like I said, I don't fucking wait. The other option is to talk to an utterly vain and overbearing woman by the name of Katherine Kavanagh, daughter and I suppose heir to the Kavanagh media empire; best friend and roommate of the girl who's been haunting my dreams and the same girl managed to hit every single nerve the last time we spoke. Yes, this option, my only real option, hates the fuck out of me.

In business, one must do everything necessary to achieve one's goal. It's simple: be friendly if needed, work with others if needed. In short, swallow your fucking pride to get whatever the fuck you want. The only drawback is, I can't stomach Katherine Kavanagh and I'm pretty positive that the feeling is mutual. But I need Anastasia's whereabouts and the only person, the only option I have is to talk to that bile-spewing woman who is probably sitting comfortably up there, in her apartment, oblivious to anything but dinner. Yes, I am that fucking desperate or maybe just sleep deprived because of the nightmares that continue to haunt me, day in and day out.

_Fuck it Grey, get this over with!_

"Stay here," I say, as I climb out of the SUV.

"I insist, Sir" Taylor says, already moving to disobey my direct order. I can't blame him; the Kavanagh girl was at my throat, about to rip me into pieces (not that I would I let her) when Taylor found us at the back of building.

"Fine" I huff as I punch the button with the number '3' on it and wait... great, more fucking waiting.

"Yes?" a woman answers haughtily. _Christ!_

"Delivery for Miss Kavanagh" I say knowing that she will never let me in if I tell her it's Christian Grey paying her a visit.

"Second floor, unit three" she says and almost instantly there's the buzzing sound that lets me into the building. I breathe a sigh of relief that the Kavanagh girl did not recognize my voice and that she seemed to have been expecting a delivery. I walk in towards the lone elevator with a vigilant Taylor in front of me already pushing the call button. The elevator ride and walk towards unit three is fairly short. I find myself picturing Anastasia walking this same hallway towards the apartment she shared with her friend. I can't understand how she was able to live with a shallow and annoying woman like Katherine Kavanagh let alone call her a best friend. _You never really cared did you, Grey? All you cared about is fucking and punishing her sweet little ass._

The door of the apartment is already ajar; Katherine must've ordered food instead of cooking. I look at Taylor who is eyeing me warily; probably worried (with good reason) about the Kavanagh girl's reaction when she finds out that it's not the pizza delivery guy that called. He is right. Katherine appears and stops mid-stride, eyes registering shock, quickly morphing into a glare; and her hands – that had been holding bills intended for the food she ordered – now balled into fists. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her predictable behavior, I give her only my impassive mask. Let her make the first move.

"What the fuck are you doing here Grey?" she thunders.

"I'm here to talk to you Ms. Kavanagh" I say. _Why else would I be here? Patience Grey_, _this visit will be a huge fucking waste of time if you mirror her hostility._

"If you're here to find out where my best friend is, well read between the lines: She's. Nowhere. Near here! So you can go before I call the police!" she warns, but I ignore her. _Police? Who the fuck does she think she's dealing with? I'd have to wring her neck in front of witnesses before the cops would bother me…tempting. Focus, Grey._

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me" I say, trying to keep my calm and my impassive mask in place to maintain my control and composure.

"You and your goon have ten seconds to get out or I'll call the police and they will show you out and I will have fun writing about how you harassed me in my own apartment!" she said in a threatening growl._ That's fucking it! No more Mr. Nice Guy._

"Where the fuck is Anastasia?" _Christ! So much for fucking calm and patience. Yeah, this girl does not deserve patience or civility._

The rage is still there in her eyes, but something like fear also enters Katherine's voice as she babbles, "Why should I tell you? What? So you can follow her, mangle her, hurt her and torture her even more? Tell me Grey, what did she do to deserve what you did to her? I'm not going to fucking ask you what you did because all I need to know is that she became a fucking ghost of the person she was before she started spending the majority of her time with you. You…hurt her…destroyed her. You made her cry every-freaking-day for months! I wouldn't be fucking surprised if you even had a hand on getting her laid-off. You made her fucking leave and now you have the nerve to come here and demand where she is? Get the fuck out of my apartment or I will make you!"

Every sentence, every word, stabs into me like a hot knife. Because, much as I don't want to hear it, I know that, deep down, I deserve every biting accusation. And I know that I should just let Anastasia be. But I'm a selfish fucker, I can't; not when I see her every night in my dreams, where she continues to torment me with those anguished but still beautiful eyes. Taking a moment to swallow my self-loathing, I say, "I'm not going until you tell me. I have to know where she is; I _must_ know that she's safe"

Standing a little straighter in stubborn defiance, Kate insists, "You will never find out, not from me, Grey! And, if you try to talk to my brother and José, I will fucking tell them that you are the reason she's not here, and I won't even feel bad breaking my promise to Ana. So help me, if you search for her, I fucking will tell. She's safe now that she's away from a fucker like you, so get the fuck out!" Finally angry enough to get physical, she pushes me away with both her hands. I freeze, drowning in memories from when I used to fight in school. Discarding any civility or even reason I literally see a red haze over the revolting women who is glaring murderously at me.

"Mr. Grey we should go." Taylor stops me by standing in between me and Katherine, giving me time to breathe reason and sense into my system before I lose myself and succumb to my sudden and urgent need to just beat shit out of her.

"Taylor." I glare at him but his equally impassive stare is enough to restrain the monster that had come out. I give him a nod to reassure him that I've got it under control. _Barely got it under control, Grey_

"Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the police" Katherine says firmly though now visibly shaken. I have to hand it to her; the woman has guts for standing up to me when she's seen the monster behind the impassive mask.

"Please accept my apologies Ms. Kavanagh and I would appreciate your discretion" Taylor nods as he escorts me out of the door

"I'll have both your balls in a platter if you ever come back here" she warns ferociously before slamming the door in front on us

_Way to go Grey. Fucking waste of time_

* * *

"You know, some people would call you crazy for inviting a stranger to live in your house without rent or something," I tell Sara, as she escorts me into my room, the place that I will now call home. I've barely noticed that it's almost a week since I came to London. The first four nights were spent in a hotel room since I wasn't able to cancel my reservation, and the rest I will spend in this room of a nice looking neighborhood at the heart of London. I had to smile at Sara's understated comment that her loft is a short way from the office. After the interview, part of my day was spent meeting everyone in the small company, another part was spent trying to cancel my hotel room and get a refund. As a result, I had no choice but to stay in the hotel instead of saving my money by moving straight into Sara's spare room.

Upon agreeing to take the job or the "challenge" as she likes to call it, she offered the spare room to me, if I help her out with the chores. Like a hag – another favorite expression of hers – she wouldn't take no for an answer as she pointed out that it is also a part of my job or rather; the challenge. I have to spend majority of my time learning from her. Every waking hour will be spent learning and working with her. So far, I've spent five really productive days working and training with everyone, particularly Sara and Alex. Ten-hour work days that start from early morning and continue until dinner time; dinner I also spend with the same people; a hag and a talker in the hag's apartment, eating traditional British meals that consist of meat, two different kinds of vegetables and potatoes with a Yorkshire pudding or simple pasta dish and at one point, even curry. I've since learned that everyone here _loves_ curry, especially chicken tikka masala, though I've not yet tried it. who knew?

"I can say the same to you my dear," Sara huffs and gives me that superior look that basically means, she will either say something funny or recite a peculiar quote from her hag book of proverbs, or both. I have a feeling it's both. "Great minds are peculiar. They don't always follow the norm" she winks.

I'm giving her the opportunity to explain – I know she wants to – so I say, "Really? What do they do?"

"They follow their instincts and don't you dare laugh at me child! You are here because you followed your instincts," she says haughtily, a British trait, I think.

"What if that instinct is wrong?" I counter.

"Oh, I'm not saying be stupid and trust anyone," she replies by waving her hands in exasperation. I had to laugh. Sara's humor is like no other.

"There has to be sort of a compromise, some sort of balance. Don't just follow your instincts blindly; it could actually be fatal, but don't overthink either. You'll explode if you overthink things, which won't be good for you mentally because you'll go mad and quite frankly it won't get you anywhere, anyway," she continues while I chuckle and shake my head.

"I'll die either way," I snort.

"Follow your heart, instincts and think what makes sense" she says patiently, smiling her motherly smile at me. I stopped laughing as I consider her words. Follow my heart? Is she serious? The last time I did, it got me to a red room, shackled and blindfolded. _'Compromise Steele, forget about the heart,'_ I hear my subconscious say while reading from the notes she'd taken of my many "lessons" with Sara

"I don't know about the first Sara, but ill agree with you about the _instinct and what makes sense _part," I hear myself say.

Sara sighs, considering my answer for a moment until finally; she smiles her patient smile and changes the subject. "We'll talk about your heart later, now it's time for dinner."

"Can I cook?" I say, half relieved, though I know that she meant it when she said we will continue the subject later.

"Fair enough. I have salmon and some greens for salad" nods Sara, as she leads me out of my room and into the kitchen.

Sara lives on a four bedroom loft in a historic brick castle converted into a luxurious apartment building on a great location according to Alex, I'm in a new country, so I still don't know about such things, and frankly, I don't care. Sara tells me that the apartment or "loft", I'll have to learn the Britism stat, didn't look like this about ten months ago. She had planned on selling the loft after she lost her husband, Albert and their only Daughter, Olivia in an car accident in Wales, which obviously devastated her. She wanted to sell the place and move into a smaller loft in an effort to move on, but in the end, she decided that the happy memories are far more important than the tragic ones so she decided to stay. The loft is spacious; big windows surround it to let the natural light in as well as to highlight views from the street and the park a few blocks away. It has high ceilings painted in off-white and illuminated by vintage light fixtures. The walls are painted in cream, a shade darker than the ceiling paint which I think showcases the vintage paintings displayed in the hallway and in the vast living room or in British translation: reception area. My favorite room the in the property is the dining room simply because it doubles as a library. The entire wall in the dining room is covered, literally, by books. My jaw dropped the first time I saw it, much to Alex's delight while Sara simply waved her hands as if an entire wall of books in the dining room is completely normal.

Sara and I talk as we prepare our dinner; Sara preparing the salad while I turn on the thankfully simple oven and marinade the salmon fillets in butter, white wine, lemon juice, dried tarragon and salt and pepper. As we talk, I soon learn that Sara Norwood came from an affluent and influential family. She is the only daughter of a banker and a local businesswoman. Publishing is an integral part of her family, at least on her mother's side, followed by the knack for saving which was apparently inherited from her father's side of the family. Sara, according to Alex, inherited both. She has a degree on both Finance and English Literature though she focused more on the finance part as she continued until she got her doctorate. She took over her mother's publishing house at the age of twenty-seven.

"This looks tasty" Sara says, eyeing the baked salmon I've popped out of the oven and effectively breaking my reverie.

"That looks amazing" I reply, eyeing the herb salad and the steamed brussel sprouts she prepared.

"Enough looking, let's eat, I'm famished." I snort a laugh at her eagerness, but nonetheless comply, as I am hungry too. She compliments my cooking as we eat, and I repay the favor, complementing her expert skill on cooking the brussel sprouts perfectly as well as the delicious mixed green salad. She asks me about my parents who she both spoke to once I've accepted the job. She assured both my mom and step-dad that I am in good hands.

As we talk, I can tell she's trying to steer the conversation back to the subject of my heart. Sara is smart; she must know that my heart has been broken. Of course she's curious about that. She's just asked me about Kate, whom Sara hasn't even met yet, when I realize that I actually do trust this kind, generous woman who's sharing her home, her business and her wisdom with me. I sigh and concede, "Kate is tenacious. She won't take shit from anyone. She's bossy, protective and sometimes a control freak but she loves me like we're real sisters; she's very loyal and sweet."

"You miss her," she states, bluntly.

"Yes, and I feel bad that I had to leave the way I did. She supported my decision, but I could tell that I've hurt her feelings by leaving without saying goodbye properly."

"I'm sure she understands." Sara smiles serenely and adds, "Now let's talk about that heart."

"Right. What do you want to know?" I say, dryly, thankful that I've eaten most of my meal, because talking about the condition of my heart will probably kill my appetite. I can see my subconscious, twirling an empty wine glass as a hint. For once, she's right; I could really use a drink right now.

"I rarely keep wine here, my dear" Sara says, eerily reading my thoughts correctly.

"You have to teach me how to do that" I snap, while she just chuckles at my surprise.

"My dear Ana, you're already 've obviously guessed that I'm about to steer the conversation about the earlier subject" she reasons and continues, "But your right; don't worry, I shall add mind-reading to our many lessons and you will learn…Every day that you heal, you'll discover something new and interesting about yourself…"

"You're right. Thank you, by the way. To say that the five days I've spent with you and everyone in the house was productive is really an understatement. I've learned so much, and without all the stress and pressure. It's been amazing."

"Good. And it's a joy to have you with us Ana. You're a bright child, and a quick learner. Now let's get back to business," she smirks.

Still nervousness, even though I've decided to trust her, I swallow and ask, "What do you want to know and why? I mean, is it important?"

"Everything and yes it is important that you tell me because, for one, talking helps not only to heal the wounds, it also has other benefits like learning from the experience and setting your goals for the future. Then there's the bit where it helps me understand what kind of man he is, and then it also helps with the trust issues you're having. I trust you implicitly, Anastasia. Do you trust me?" she says seriously but enthusiastically. I have to ask Alex if Sara also has a degree in psychiatry, because I actually feel like just telling her everything, even though we barely know each other.

"Do I need to lay down on a lounge or something" I ask, after gaping at her.

"I told you dear, I'm no charlatan or shrink, as you Americans call them," she snorts.

"Well you sound like one," I mumble, picking at the remaining food on my plate as I contemplate whether or not I should re-hash what happened to me. I can see that I'm on my own, because my subconscious is clearly torn; a nervous frown on her face, even as she looks eager to proceed and just tell Sara everything.

After a moment, Sara reaches out one warm hand on top of mine and said, "You can trust me you know?" And in that moment I've decided.

"I know I can Sara. I would tell you, but I signed an NDA and then a contract," I say.

She gapes momentarily and takes a deep breath, "That bloke is a powerful and well known individual, then," she concluded matter-of-factly. Wow. I nod while she narrows her eyes and continues, "So he doesn't see your relationship as a real relationship but a contract... Hmmm he's not a politician but a businessman then?"

"How…?" I'm dazed at how she arrives at such accurate conclusions.

"It's called years of experience; practice and common sense my dear. Don't worry, I'll teach you the fundamentals of reading between the lines."

"O-okay," I stammer, after a moment.

"You do know that the contract you signed was non-binding, right?"

"Yes… but the NDA"

"Well he's not here and I'm pretty sure you didn't tell him you were running when you left, did you?" she pointed. My subconscious gapes but nods enthusiastically.

"Uh no, I don't think so, though he has an uncanny ability to know where I am, at least in Seattle."

"You mean to say he's monitoring you?" she says incredulously, her tone raising an octave higher.

Still incredibly uncomfortable with this entire conversation, I'm able to trust Sara enough to meekly nod and say, "While we were together."

"Well you're not together anymore and I doubt he can record what you're saying in this room at this very moment, so speak up unless of course, if you don't want to. You have a choice Ana; always remember that you can tell me anything, I won't force you if you're not ready or if you don't want to" she says serenely. _'She has a point Steele, you're free to do whatever and then there's the compromise thing. You can tell her but on your terms.'_

"Uhm... his name is Christian," I begin, my heart aching from just speaking the name "I met him just before my graduation from collage; I interviewed him on behalf of Kate who was sick. Nothing momentous really happened until after graduation when Kate and I moved to Seattle for work. Kate has a job at the local paper while I found a job at a publishing house. I ran into him one day at a deli shop close to where I worked and we talked; caught up on what happened since my graduation. After the conversation, we exchanged numbers and contact information, the same night we started… communicating, you know; messaging. Then he started calling and contacting me even at work; somehow found out my work email. I'll admit, though he was pretty much stalking me, I enjoyed it. He is really attractive and I found him mysterious and fascinating. I couldn't say no when he finally invited me over his apartment for dinner. In fact I agreed wholeheartedly thinking that I may have found the guy I could, you know; date, which I now realize was foolish and stupid" I notice that I'm babbling and stop before it gets worse.

"He was your first love," she whispers, after a moment.

Was? No,_ is_; I still love him. I feel the dam swelling; instead, I nod and bite my lip in an effort to stop the upcoming waterworks but strangely, I feel compelled to continue. "Over dinner he told me he wanted me from the very beginning, but that he couldn't ask me out, and that's why he waited so long. I told him that the feeling is mutual and that I'm glad that he asked me out, but then he said… he… isn't into the conventional relationship and that his tastes are rather specific. I was speechless at first but I thought there is still hope for us and so I asked what he meant when he said about his 'specific tastes.' That's when he made me sign the NDA. He said it's for his privacy and that his lawyers insist on it, so I signed it even though I know that it's completely unnecessary and then he showed me the contract shortly after that. The contract simply means that I have to follow… a set of rules and if I don't there will be… consequences for the rules that I've broken and then…" _he showed me his playroom and said what he really wanted is for you to be shackled and punished I added mentally._ I couldn't see anymore. The dam has broken, the tears have returned and I'm back to the basics of crying and wallowing. I hear the faint sound of metal scraping in the wooden floor and a few seconds later I feel Sara enveloping me into her arms.

"Ana… you've cried enough, my dear child."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, and you don't have to continue. I think I pretty much understand what kind of person this bloke is."

"You…you do?" I say, astounded. _Jeez, is she that smart?_

"Dear, I don't have to know the extent of the contract he showed you and that you eventually signed. I do know, based on what you said that men with power do have their own preference, so to speak. This bloke I think likes to control and possess things on his terms, making you sign an NDA means that he prefers his privacy, like any other control and power driven individual. I know that he is probably emotionally closed-off or that he didn't love you but he desired you and you, you're crying, hurting and grieving because you let him… you let him because you love him" she says, sympathetically.

"I still do, I made a mistake for loving him and I feel so stupid" I spit, more to myself.

"Shh… don't be hard on yourself. People make mistakes. If it makes you feel better, then let me tell you the biggest mistake I ever made. I know Alex gave you a rundown like he always does, but I know he only told you the highlights. That wanker likes to put me on a damn pedestal. I despise it and he knows it, but he doesn't care. Friends do that I suppose," she huffs. "Anyway, he told you about the success of the family business the moment I took over. I was ambitious. I wanted to conquer; simply put, I wanted to dominate the publishing world, which I eventually did, until it became so huge that I lost control and eventually, the empire that I so wanted… took off and left me with nothing but my family, my late husband, who was my fiancé at the time, real friends like Alex and the rest of the team across the street"

"What happened?"

"Oh you know, I was too young, too ambitious, and too impatient. I hired and worked with the wrong people, I merged with another house which eventually took over everything from my title to the name of the company… the hardest, most painful thing is to watch people who've only been in the company for three seconds, strip everything away that generations of my family have worked so hard to achieve. In a blink of an eye, I'm no longer the CEO; I'm no longer the third generation owner. The name Norwood is no longer. It's just a part of the bigger company's history. In other words, Norwood Publishing was nothing but another acquisition, and I was the last CEO. You see Ana, some people make bigger mistakes than that of falling in love with the wrong person but no matter: just like any other mistakes, you will eventually get over this hump, and one day, fate will once again bring you back home and maybe you will see that bloke again, only this time, you are not you, he will not see the fragile girl he knew… he will see someone stronger, better."

"What makes you think that?" I say skeptically.

"You'll see… you won't see it today my dear, but one day."

"I don't know what I'll do if I see him again. I'll probably run, cry or hide" I snort as I wipe the tears away _'Or your legs will buckle automatically and you'll end up going into sub-mode.'_

"I know I probably reached my quota for proverbs but here's another one and you probably heard it from someone: mistakes make us who we are. They define us in a way that can make us grow and they make us wiser."

"Where did you get that? Dr. Seuss?" I chuckle and she chuckles with me.

"You should know by now that hags like me like to make their own proverbs" she says, smiling warmly and adds, "You're crying about what he did to you stops tonight, Anastasia. Tomorrow, when you think of him, you will only think about that one mistake you will never make. When you think of him or when you think of the pain you suffered because of him, you will use the pain as fuel for you to work harder. You will keep yourself busy to stop yourself from thinking anything that has to do with him. Right now, your goal to be successful in your career goes hand in hand with your primary goal, to accept and live with the consequences of that mistake and move on. It will be hard, but I assure you, the pain in your chest will eventually recede until you grow numb or better yet, until you stop thinking about him altogether. Don't scoff at the hag! Yes, I know you better than you already think, child."

In spite of the tears, I start to laugh, "I have to scoff right now because I can't see myself doing that right now, though you're right; work gives me no time to think about him except of course when I stop and when someone brings him up or when I see something that will remind me of him. I can't help it when everything just comes rushing back"

"This is the reason you're here with me. I will help you but in turn, you must make an effort to start living your life without him. Think of it this way: he's back home right now, minding his business, happy and maybe with someone else. He is living a normal life without you; as if you never existed, while you are here wallowing and hiding in pain and shame. He doesn't care about you anymore. If he did, you wouldn't be here; you would be with him but you're not. Do you see the difference?"

Sara's words takes me back to that day I realized that I wasn't having a dream; that he was gone and he'd pushed me away. I find myself struggling to breathe again as the pain overpowers me. Pain that comes with a new feeling: anger. The thought of him moving on, enjoying and living his life with a new submissive rips my already mangled heart and it angers me to the point of near insanity. I can't take it.

"The difference?" I squeak "that he doesn't care; he never did and that he doesn't love me?"

"Well, what are you going to do? Are you going to sit here with me and just cry? He won't hear you and if he did, he won't care, he tossed you out remember? You think he would pick you up, apologize and comfort you if he sees you in pieces like this? No. Remember Ana; he doesn't care" she says, again, prodding me as if I already know the answer.

_'Oh, really? And how, exactly, are you going to do that? You think about him even when you're asleep, and have shed enough tears to fill Puget Sound,'__'_ my subconscious says, pleading now. God, she's right. I'm over here miserable and he probably found a new sub right after he threw me out of Escala. He certainly never came after me and I was fired from Grey Publishing. Sara's right, I need to move on. I'm twenty-two years old and it's time for me to start living my life and put Christian Grey out of my mind.

"I should stop crying; I shouldn't care anymore" I say, aware that I stopped crying

"At least in this, he has shown you what to do. He doesn't care about you anymore; he is living his life as if nothing happened. That is what you should do; the difference is that you're living with me, which means, you'll do better. You'll start living a better life here in London and I will be with you along the way. Do you understand?" she said is a fierce yet determined tone that all I can do is nod.

"Good. I know that what I did, what I told you was harsh and I'm sorry, but—" she says, her motherly smile returning.

"I needed it" I say, finishing her sentence, "and you're right, its time I start living my life," I add, as I wipe the last tears away.

"Excellent. You don't mind me being harsh then," she winks.

I snort and roll me eyes while she smiles approvingly "Your time spent with me won't be a waste."

"I've noticed," I say and I feel myself smile despite the drama. _Jeez _

"There goes that lovely smile" she says, approvingly "Dear child, five days is nothing; you haven't seen a glimpse yet. Having said that, we both need to rest; real work starts tomorrow"

**~oOo~**

I lie in bed later unable to sleep. I keep thinking about my conversation with Sara. Her life that she shared to me; how she had everything, how she rebounded from her mistake and how she viewed it as a lesson instead of a mistake. The hag sure knows a lot of things. The thought of her using humor behind such wise words alone makes her brilliant. She really is an amazing person and I'm so glad fate or whatever it is, has brought us together. Part of me thinks that Sara is not only helping me get over... him and also, she's also helping to become a better person. Part of me thinks that she's grooming me to become something else… What that is and what it's for? I don't know yet, time will tell I guess, but I have a feeling or rather, instincts tell me that, whatever it is, it will be for the best thing that will ever happen to me and that I won't be the same after she's through with me. God, I hope I'm right.

* * *

**More notes from Missy:** Sorry I can't put this on my authors note as I don't want to spoil you guys unless it's absolutely necessary. Think of Ana and Sara's conversation as a more mature 'friend-tervention.' Yes, the friend-tervention from Ethan, Kate & Jose also worked but let's just say, it's not as effective comparing to the old hag's approach (Its started nicely and when Ana started groveling, she changed tack and the hag showed her the goods). This is where Ana starts to see Sara from boss to a friend and a mentor. I've envisioned their bond or relationship as the exact opposite of Christian & Elena's. Though Christian thinks highly of Elena as his only friend and teacher, we all know that she really is a manipulative abuser and bad influence to him. Sara on the other hand, is the nurturing teacher who, rather than channeling Ana's pain in a dark path, she used it to help her grow and move on. In essence, Sara is one integral reason behind the new Steele. I hope you liked it!


	11. Chapter 11: Time and Distance

**Missy's notes:** Thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows, and PM's. I am really glad you guys liked the previous chapter! As i said on my last note, I will pick up the phase starting on this chapter (I wont say anything as I don't want to spoil the fun for you guys). I hope you guys like it and as always, please forgive my errors.

E.L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 11: Time and Distance**

_ "Time heals what reason cannot." ~Seneca_

My heart is pounding as the he runs the strands of the flogger over my feet, my thighs, my hips, my belly and my breasts. Each touch sends shivers down my spine, awakening my already jumpy nerves. Deep down the muscles in my belly clench for what feels like the hundredth time since we got here. We've been in the red room since he came back from his family dinner and I've been blindfolded, bound, shackled, punished and fucked by him ever since. I've lost count on how many orgasms he's given me. All I know is that with every ounce of pain he inflicted to me came with the hard relentless thrust of him entering me. He found me in my room getting my clothes ready for work the next day when he arrived and ordered me to be ready in his playroom instantly. It's my last night at Escala and I'm supposed to go back to my apartment, back to everything normal the next morning. I'm with him five nights every week and yet it feels like the time with him is not enough. I spend every day we're not together wishing I was with him. Tonight is even harder than usual because tomorrow is my birthday. And all I want for my birthday is to be with him. I know I can't, one because he would never agree if I asked him, and two, it's not my place to ask. Which is why I'll take the next best thing: spend the night before my birthday with him, here in this red room of pain and pleasure. _'You're so blind, Steele!' _

"You're biting that delicious lip again Ms. Steele, do you know what that does to me?" he whispers, the slightest touch of his lips searing me so that I flinch and my breathing hitches involuntarily. I want to scream, mewl, or say something, to beg, but I can't; I'm not supposed to say anything.

"Answer me"

"No, Sir" I say bleakly

"I think you do, I think you're lying to me Ms. Steele" he says darkly. Once again he trails the strands of the leather flogger on me and out of nowhere he flicks it and hits me, down there… downtown. I let out a moan and pull against my restrains as the sensation once again attacks me ruthlessly. I mewl loudly as he now targets my breasts, hitting my elongated nipples with swift precision

"Shhh… you like that, do you?"

"Yes, Sir" I whimper. I can feel him standing in front of me, the flogger has disappeared and suddenly, he hits me again, hitting my sweet spot down south and I can't help but to cry out loud

"Oh please, Sir"

"Shall I make you come this way?"

"Yes, please Sir"

"Ah but it's not up to you, is it Ms. Steele?" he says, and I suppress a cry. It's agonizing, I know I don't need it as I've probably had enough orgasms to last a life time, but my body wants it anyway.

"Answer me!" he says, in such ferocity that I obey almost instantly

"No, S-Sir"

"I thought so… now what are we going to do about that?"

I'm out of words. I can't say or do anything. A submissive is supposed to take or do what the dominant gives. A submissive never asks; a submissive only waits. I'm only supposed to do as I'm told and wait. I made a mistake… mistakes mean punishment and punishments mean…

"Relax baby, I think I'll be nice with you for tonight, after all, it's only… three minutes until you turn twenty-two," he whispers. Despite the sensation, despite the insanity of it all, I freeze. I'm in shock, gratitude and awe: he knows. He knows it's my birthday tomorrow or rather, in three minutes.

"Of course I know Anastasia; I know everything about you, your birthday is no exception," he says, correctly reading my thoughts. I picture him smiling his superior smile, but then, I feel his hands on my face and the next thing I know, I blink and I'm staring at his beautiful face, his enigmatic smile looking down at me. I have no words. He leans down and kisses me hungrily and I'm lost. I don't notice that he's removed the leather cuffs until he starts to pull away from me. We're both panting and staring at each other for a moment until finally, he says, "Happy Birthday, Anastasia. You may speak."

"Thank you Sir," I pant.

"You're very welcome, we aim to please. Now, I will un-cuff your hands and feet, I want you to stand and hold on to this post. I want to fuck you one last time before we celebrate downstairs. I have something for you," he says.

**~oOo~**

After the "celebration" inside the red room, he leads me down to the great room to officially celebrate my birthday with champagne and fresh fruit; I guess he asked Gail to prepare this earlier. I am still reeling from the surprise and it's really very thoughtful of him to do this. My god, he is amazing.

"You may look at me Ana; this isn't a scene" he says, breaking my reverie. I look up to meet his fond gray eyes smiling at me.

"Thank you, Sir," I say, returning his smile

"I have something for you," he says after a moment, standing to retrieve a red box from nearby and putting it on the table. I stare at the box for a moment wondering what it is, but already knowing two things; it's from _Cartier_ and I'm positive that whatever it is, it's expensive. Really expensive. _'Humor him Ana'_ my inner goddess says while my subconscious looks at me with disgust, the word 'ho' written on her forehead.

"Err… thank you, Sir" I manage to blurt out though in my mind this is completely unnecessary. He's given me way too many… gifts already; he's already given me a car to replace my Beetle, a wardrobe that could rival Kate's closet, a laptop, a new phone and he even puts money in my personal bank account and now these gifts too.

"Ana, we talked about this…" he says patiently, though I can tell he's barely keeping his temper in check, "open it," he adds changing his tone from sweet tone to dominant. I obey immediately. Inside the red box lies an exquisite necklace with a matching bracelet. There is a thick platinum chain and in the center is a diamond encrusted padlock charm pendant that matches the charm on the bracelet

"It's…" _a collar! _My subconscious says, aghast while my inner goddess ignores her and smiles appreciatively, lovingly at my man, eyes glassy with tears as she says _'they're lovely.'_ Taking a deep breath, I stare at him and say, "It's beautiful; thank you, Sir."

"Good. I wanted to give you something that you will wear every day, that will remind you of me; something that represents you belonging to me and only me, in an understated way" he says. _Really? He calls a diamond padlock and platinum chain & bracelet understated? _

In a BDSM context, a collar is a devise of any material placed around the neck of the submissive. It is also a term used to show ownership of one partner by another. It's a representation, a discrete representation of me belonging to him. Deep down, I know that this isn't right; that I don't belong to anyone. I know I should refuse this gift, but I love him, and in that context, I do belong to him because I want to be with him, so I swallow the dirt and pride with a smile and say, "Thank you for the beautiful gift and for tonight, Sir."

**~oOo~**

**_September 10, 2012, present day._**

I sit on the bench in the sitting area atop the apartment building, swirling the remaining contents of the champagne that Alex brought as my birthday present, remembering how I celebrated my birthday last year. Amazing how things change in an instant; last year I spent hours in a red room, bound and blindfolded on a four poster bed while he… while he took his time doing all sorts of kinky shit to me. Back then, I would think it's a delicious memory, now however, well it's still delicious, but it's also disgusting, especially when the kinky man you love so much you would do anything he wants, simply threw you away like some kind of toy he was done playing with. The same night last year, he'd given me jewelry; a ridiculously expensive collar disguised as jewelry that he wanted me to wear every day to remind me that I belong to him and of course, his way of telling everyone in an understated way that I was his… property; his pet.

I take a deep, relaxing breath to stop the anger from flaring. _'Very good, Steele; that shit is over, you're in a much better place now, think of the blessings' _my subconscious mutters, reviewing my many notes from Sara. The pain that I was carrying when I started to travel and eventually joined Norwood House has subsided thanks to Sara Norwood's decision to hire and welcome me graciously into her home. She's been there for me ever since I decided to take her challenge and move here to London and join Norwood House; not only as my employer, but also my teacher and mentor, but most importantly, as my friend. She patiently and constantly listens to my struggles and always has a 'word of wisdom' ready to not only guide me, but also to make me smile.

She managed to stop my crying and the dam from overflowing by replacing it with work; a lot of work to keep me from thinking about…him. And it has been the most productive, challenging, fulfilling months of my life. I find myself looking forward to the next meeting with an author, the next lesson in accounting and finance, planning and marketing, nothing but the next work day – focusing on anything but regrets and wallowing. None of it is easy. In a way, I feel like I'm a recovering alcoholic. There are days when I am okay and there are times when it's the exact opposite; I would hear or see or think of something that makes me fall of the wagon, so to speak, and Sara would act like my counselor. She would stay, talk, listen and encourage me the whole time for which I am always grateful. There are also times when I'm remorseful for being so needy. That's when Sara says I am under "the gloomy London weather"as she likes to call it.

Since deciding to stay here in London with Sara, I'm beginning to realize that what I did to myself. I made the decision to be with him no matter what and to do whatever he wanted; to be his submissive, and the reality of that choice is starting to disgust me. I suppose that's what time does, aside from healing the wounds; it makes you realize how much you screwed up and forces you to face up to the implications of those choices every day. And what disgusts me even more is the fact that, even though I'm beginning to hate myself for letting him do whatever he pleased, I'd gladly do it all over again. In spite of my rigorous work schedule, I still find myself thinking about him and above all, I know that I still love him, in spite of the pain he inflicted on my body and soul. This simple fact makes me all the more disgusted with myself.

"The celebration is inside my dear not here," I hear the haughty and slightly irritated voice of my guru who always knows when I'm having one of my moments and who always knows when it's time to break my reverie. I turn give her a smirk.

"Kate called to wish me a happy birthday and it's getting a bit loud with Alex singing at the top of his lungs," I say, while she rolls her eyes and shakes her head in agreement.

"Well, you're not on the phone with dear Kate anymore are you? And, given the look on your face, I'd say you're having one of your moments and that whatever you're thinking is giving you that gloomy London weather again_, _might I remind you that it's your birthday and we're supposed to be celebrating your first birthday here with us," she babbles, giving me my cue to roll my eyes at her

"You know me well. She called to greet me; I got to speak with her and our other friends. I miss them that's all; and well, you know what happens when I start to think of home," I mumble. At this she decides to join me

"You miss home and you're drinking. Yes, yes… a bad combination," she says, eyeing my now empty champagne flute.

"The drinking is for my celebration," I reason. "I thought of how I celebrated my birthday last year and started to compare it to this year… you know, I started thinking about time and stuff" I finally confess.

"Predictable," Sara huffs.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

"Don't be. Ana, you are still in the process of getting over it, you've only been here a few months, and you need more time, my dear. You're making progress, a lot of progress, which is another reason why we're celebrating in the first place. You've improved so much since the first time I saw you. You don't look like you're a bloody corpse, there's color in your cheeks, you look like you're having fun rather than wishing you didn't wake up in the morning and most importantly, you don't look like the girl from a few months ago, who was ogling in front of Norwood House like an idiot who didn't seem to know what to do with herself. You no longer look lost. You're here and you've been working very hard, you found good authors with good stories to tell; business is doing well and its your birthday, so cheer up, child, or no more champagne for you!" she says, patting my shoulders.

"You're right, now is not a good time to be under the weather," I acquiesce, deciding to change the subject. "You're forgetting my accounting, auditing and marketing accomplishments," I say jokingly, knowing Sara's disapproval of arrogance.

"You're right, all things considered, but I don't like your arrogance child! You've barely glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, so keep your head down. Your finance skills surprised me; but your marketing and people skills, however, need a lot of work," she says sternly.

"Hey! You and I know that I like to work behind the scenes, so no need to work on my people skills. I don't know what we'll do with the marketing bit, but it's just not my forte" I complain, "And don't get your knickers in a twist, old hag, I'm just playing with you," I say chuckling at her horrified reaction

"Good. I'm not teaching you to become an arrogant arse. No one likes to work with arrogant wankers," she fires back and adds, "If I was able to stop your crying my dear, then your marketing and people skills will be a piece of cake. It's simple: you use what you have and get creative. First step is accepting your assets… but we'll talk about that later, come now, everyone's waiting. It's your party after all, I want you to have fun, you've earned it," she says as she gets up and motions for me to follow.

"Thank you Sara, for the party, the lemon cake and for everything," I start but she stops me

"Don't thank me just yet Ana, like I said: tip of the iceberg, we've only just begun and there's more work to be done"

* * *

"How are you today Mr. Grey? It's been a while," Dr. John Flynn, my long time shrink says, as I take my seat. He's been my shrink for years and that is saying something. I've been through practically every shrink in the whole Washington state and just like submissives, they never lasted, except for him. I don't know what he sees in me and I don't know why, despite our many disagreements whenever we meet, I still find myself going back for more… talk.

"Fucked up as usual Flynn, what did you expect?" I say dryly, routinely.

"I don't know Mr. Grey, perhaps a bit of… enthusiasm," Flynn says, as he smiles patiently at me. _Fucking prick._

"You and I both know I don't do happy," I shoot back. The only other person who knows my shit aside from Elena is John Flynn and that's only because he's my shrink and he's signed an NDA.

"Then what do you do?" he smirks. _Smug bastard._

"I fuck John," I snap dryly while he just shakes his head.

"Would you say you also fuck your empire?" Flynn says, taking the latest edition of Wall Street Journal, which highlights a recent acquisition by GEH in Taiwan, from the side pocket of his chair and placing it on the coffee table between us.

"No. It's the only thing that I don't mess up, Doctor," I acquiesce.

"Then we both agree that you don't always, screw things up," Flynn points out. "Now, tell me Mr. Grey, aside from conquering the second biggest shipyard in Taiwan, what have you been doing as of late?" Flynn continues, thankfully changing the subject.

I stare at him for a moment, contemplating on whether or not I should tell him that I've been hell bent on finding a girl who left Seattle months ago, just as much as I was hell bent of getting the Taiwan deal and dealing with the impossible demands of the Taiwanese company done, but so far, instead of accomplishing the simpler task of tracking, I manage to close the other more complicated task in fucking record time while the simpler task which should have been done ages ago is still… fucking hanging in the clouds. _'It's a simple task, Grey. It will be done you just have to wait until the team finds her.'_

"I've been trying to get some sleep," I finally manage, preferring to keep the situation... private. It's true, I haven't been sleeping properly, worse than the usual since the day I terminated the contract; since she left.

"I beg your pardon?" Flynn looks up, seemingly confused.

"You heard me; I've been having a hard time sleeping lately, for months actually, and lately I feel…" I let the thought trail as I search for the right word to tell him without divulging a load of crap.

"You feel…?" Flynn says, repeating the words, coaxing me to finish.

"Restless," I hear myself say. It makes sense, I suppose. I've been on edge or restless for a while, on top of the lack of sleep, and I've no clue why. It's something that I can't put a finger on. I know that it's not about work; I know it has something to do with her… Anastasia Rose Steele: the girl who has been starring in my dreams every night for months... Ever since I terminated our contract, her face, more importantly her eyes, those eyes haunt me. _Shit! Concentrate, Grey._

"Why is that?" Flynn responds, giving me his full attention. Why? Well, this girl with big blue guileless eyes has been appearing in my dreams every fucking night for the past seven months or so, all because I fucking terminated our contract after she told me she loves me and I've been trying to look for her but she fucking disappeared. That's fucking why, but even I don't understand it. No one will understand. If anything, they would think I've gone fucking crazy (not that I wasn't already). I've got enough fucked up issues laid out for everyone to see already, this is something that can be easily resolved once Welch and his team manage to fucking find her.

"I don't know, you tell me; that's why I'm here," I say dryly, impassively.

"I won't be able to help unless you tell me everything, Christian," Flynn says, as always, trying to wheedle information from me the best way he can.

"What do you expect, Doctor? It's the same old shit!"

"How many hours of sleep have been getting?"

"I'll be very lucky to get five hours of sleep"

"Okay… tell me about the dreams and what you do after."

"Recurring nightmares from my childhood, you already know this shit John!" I start to protest, but he just stares at me. "The crack whore lying dead on the floor and then the pimp walking in, finding me and then he starts to kick me! Sometimes it's just one, a lot of the times it's both," I pause, thinking about the third dream… where I would either be me back sitting in study or in the great room or the inside my playroom with the same girl, with the same sad blue eyes filled with pain. I take a deep breath, deciding not to include it and add, "I wake up screaming and covered in sweat. It's impossible to sleep after that, so I try to play"

"You try to play…"

"The piano," I say exasperatedly. _Christ! What else?_

"I know that," Flynn responds with a patient smile

"They why the fuck are you asking?" I say, shoving my hand through my hair in irritation.

"I am not asking Christian; I am merely pointing out why you are trying to play the piano to, shall we say, relax your nerves and recover from those dreams, it's obviously not enough?" He reasons, he's got a fucking point. "We both know that you are a good pianist."

I shrug and say, "I don't know."

"Something's changed, Christian. You and I both know it, something triggered these dreams. It may be because of work, stress or something and I can't help you unless you tell me about it."

"Work and stress go hand in hand Flynn, and like you already pointed out, business is doing fine, I am confident that this isn't about that" I say dryly. _It's about a girl. A maddening girl who refuses to be found._ But instead of telling Flynn anything, I just shook my head and starred at my shrink expectantly waiting for a solution to a problem that he doesn't know... yet.

"Then it must be your personal life then," Flynn concluded, hitting the jackpot but I refuse to give in.

"What about it?"

"If it isn't about business then it's usually the other way around, Mr. Grey. Now tell me, what has been happening on your personal life as of late?" The doctor says.

"Nothing new, if you're asking about my family, I haven't spoken to any of them since my birthday," I say lamely.

"That's it?" Flynn prods, we both know what he's trying to say or ask. "Let me rephrase Mr. Grey: tell me about your other private life. The last time we spoke…"

"I don't have a sub, not anymore" I finally admit. I couldn't remember the last time Flynn and I spoke, I just know that Anastasia was still in my life and everything was… great.

"Do you think…?" Flynn starts to say, but cut him.

"No. This shit has nothing to do with my contractual relationships," I lie. _It has everything to do with a girl who was my submissive, but I won't tell you about her. _For some reason that I can't explain, I feel a strong need to protect her identity. She's different from the others...For some strange reason, I don't want anyone, not even Flynn to think of her as just a submissive...she was...she is...more.

"Maybe it does. You just won't admit it." Flynn says after a while. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it Christian, I'm here. In the meantime, I'm afraid that all I can do to help you with your sleep issues is to prescribe you with sleep medications along with a list of activities that can help you relax. Yoga for example…"

"You know I don't like prescription medicines and I'm not into any of that relaxation shit" I respond as I start to get up

"Perhaps a new partner?" Flynn says and I freeze. _Did he just say that? Is he fucking serious?_

"I don't need a partner," I say as I continue to make my way out, ignoring his pleas for me to stay. I don't need anything, I just need… her.

**~oOo~**

The distinct sound of the elevator announcing that I am now a mile high in the air interrupts my musings about the earlier conversation I had with Dr. John Flynn. I've arrived to my next appointment; the business meeting, at least that's what she calls it, with Elena Lincoln. Elena and I go way back. I met her when I was fifteen and she changed my life in many different ways. She knew what I was and she recognized and understood what needed to be done. She knew that the only way to control an out of control teenager like me was through submission. It worked like a charm. She taught me a lot of things throughout the six years I was her submissive. She stopped my drinking and fighting, she made me focus my energy on something useful. She thought me to be capable, and she is the reason behind my impassive mask. She taught me control and even helped me start my business by loaning me the seed money to start my company. She believed in me when no one, including my parents, believed that I could make it without a college degree. She is one of the reasons I am who I am.

"Christian, it's been a long time, how are you?" Elena gushes when I walk into the private room I've arranged at the Mile High Club. She's wearing her usual black outfit: a formfitting black dress showcasing her body and black Louboutin heels and sparkling diamond jewelry.

"I'm well Elena, you?" I respond, letting her kiss me on both cheeks before we take our seats. It's not until she started absentmindedly playing with the padlock pendant that I finally realize I recognize the sparkling jewelry she's wearing: platinum chain, diamond encrusted padlock charm pendant with the matching bracelet – all custom made from Cartier. The jewelry I commissioned last year as birthday present for a girl. The jewelry I gave to a girl after I fucked her in my playroom until the clock struck midnight for her twenty-second birthday. I scramble to look at the calendar on my phone and confirm the date. _Shit!_

"Christian darling, are you okay?" Elena asks, just as our server pours our wine, her voice full of concern as she reads the alarm on my face. I glare at the server who hastily retreats.

"Those jewelry… where did you get that necklace and bracelet?" I respond, choosing to ignore her question. I have to know where and how she got them.

"I'm glad you're okay my dear, I'm beginning to think that you've disappeared from the face of the earth, I haven't seen you in ages" Elena says, rolling her eyes like a fucking teenager, while sipping her wine, triggering my anger.

"Where the fuck did you get those?"

"Jesus, Christian, will you relax? I'm just being nice," Elena says, pacifyingly.

"You're being sarcastic, now answer my question!" I demand.

"Denise Kavanagh. Her daughter Katherine was helping her friend sell things. I can't remember the whole story but It involves an upset girl who was in a relationship with a cross dresser, I think, it's a quite an amusing story. I think the girl caught the poor man in action, wearing one of her dresses" she chuckles "anyway, Katherine went to her mother, Denise went to her friends, and well, they were able to sell the poor girl's things around. Denise said the items are really nice and almost new and I believe her. Denise herself got one of the girl's Birkin bags. She paid full price, but at least she didn't have to wait two years to get it. Anyway, I didn't want to haggle and paid full price for these. I know they are custom Cartier and they are just exquisite."

"I see," Is all I can say, taking a swig of the wine as I process the information.

"Why do you ask?" Elena says with an amused expression.

"Nothing; I thought I recognized them from somewhere," I say trying to be nonchalant. The server reappears with a plate of appetizers.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, registering shock as she covers her mouth.

"What?" I say, not getting what she's trying to say.

"That was you, was it?" she says with utter malice. Elena can read between the lines, and unlike most other people, she knows me too well.

"Excuse me?" I say impassively, making it look like I genuinely don't know what she's talking about.

"The girl… the expensive wardrobe, the custom-made jewelry…"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think that I'm a fucking cross-dresser? Have you fucking lost your fucking mind?" I bite back, masking my horror with anger. For some reason that I don't understand and for the second time today, I feel compelled to keep this shit about Anastasia a secret, even to the people I trust.

"No of course not…" Elena says in horror. Raising the hand that has the matching bracelet towards her chest.

"Then don't you fucking make those fucking accusations to me!"

"Christian, you're blowing things out of proportion! I'm merely saying that maybe the whole cross dresser thing is a roux. Will you please relax and mind your manners!" Elena says but I just glare at her.

After a while, Elena sighs and raises both her hands in defeat and says, "Alright, I suppose that wasn't you. Enough of my jewelry; let's talk about the business."

"Lets" he says dryly

And with that, we start to talk about the progress of the Esclava chain over dinner. It's a chain of high end beauty salons Elena founded and I financially backed as a silent partner, after her divorce from her husband Linc, the CEO of Lincoln Timber. She was a bored trophy wife with a secret lifestyle, a lifestyle that she introduced to me. The lifestyle we shared together for six years until Linc found out and he beat the shit out of her effectively ending the Domme/sub relationship, though not our friendship. She mentored me when I decided to become a dominant; she even volunteered to sub for me at the start and later supplied me with possible submissives until I met a certain brunette by the name of Anastasia, who stumbled into my office for an interview and captivated me from the moment I laid eyes on her. I had to have her. I pursued her until she agreed…and then I fucked it all up because she said she loved me… I stopped everything, cut everyone while I was with Anastasia; again, I feel the need to protect her identity from everyone. I still don't get why, but I do know that Anastasia was— is different from the rest. The five nights instead of two I've spent with Anastasia filled the void that one ever could, and while she was my submissive, I didn't feel the need to see or speak to anyone; not Flynn and not even Elena.

It didn't really surprise me when Elena starts to steer the conversation from business to my personal life after I approve the expansion proposals. This is, after all, sort of a reunion since I haven't seen or spoke to her in months. Elena likes to talk... that's putting it mildly because the truth is, she likes to put her nose to the ground and meddle into other people's business. She knows that I know and hate it, but she doesn't give a fuck. She never does. She starts subtly by asking me about GEH, which is, growing and expanding, as expected. I tell her about the newest acquisitions, the shipyard in Taiwan and the tech company in Japan that I'm currently working on. She then proceeds to ask me about my family, who I readily admit that I haven't seen nor visited since my birthday.

"Goodness Christian, that was months ago!" Elena reprimands.

I shrug and say, "I've been busy."

"No wonder Grace is worried. We have lunch every other week and she told me she's been worrying about you. You've been busy and closed off. She's been worried that you don't give yourself time to relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor" Elena smiles mirthlessly, I narrow my eyes already expecting what she is about to say next. "But you and I know that she's wrong," she adds, tilting her head to the side.

"I don't know what you're talking about Elena; I've been busy with work," I lie effortlessly though I know that she can see right through me. And I'm right, Elena starts to laugh.

"Oh Christian," she says after a moment. "Don't lie to me! Yes, you have been busy with business, but don't lie to me about not having time to relax. I know you've been busy with the mysterious toy you found ages ago, how is she? I guess she's been good, lasting for what, a year now? And I still haven't met her. You know I really should meet her sometime, that way I can give her pointers and at the same time I would know what to look for next time you –" She babbles but stops when she sees what must be the horrifying and angry look on my face. I hear something crashing on the floor followed by our server and Taylor rushing in.

"Christian, what the hell is wrong with you?" she says, horrified and clearly distraught by my actions.

"Nothing. We're through here," I announce, startling her even more.

"No we're not, something is clearly bothering you, we need to talk," she says hastily rushing in front of me, but all I can see is the jewelry on her chest. The padlock pendant that is supposed to belong to the one girl I've been wanting to see ever since the day I realized she's gone. Like every time I think of her, I feel the ever expanding void in my chest and that hallow feeling that been eating me alive.

"Business meeting is over Elena. Effective immediately, you will only contact me through email. Do not call or visit or make any effort to contact me until I say otherwise or I will end our business relationship. Do you understand?" I say as I walk out, not even bothering to wait for her response. I let Taylor lead the way and escort me to the elevator, which thankfully, is empty. As the elevator doors close, I glare at him and say, "Call Welch, tell him I've had enough waiting. I don't fucking care how you have to do, do whatever it fucking takes to find her, understand?"

"Sir," he nods curtly. Right now, all I fucking want to do is to see her to stop all this… madness. But until then, I have to fucking wait.

* * *

**More notes from Missy:** First of all, I would like to thank Contrite Shadows for the sharp inputs and my cyber bff, for always helping me put the emotions I want to put into words (if you know what I mean). The theme of this chapter, as you all know, focuses on the progress of our favorite characters, Ana's progress especially. If you're recovering from a broken heart, I hope you can relate to it. Time heals the wounds but it wont let us forget that easily. Gradually we start to realize the mistake or what we did wrong and when we do, we start to resent ourselves. This chapter also highlights the difference between the mentors, Sara (for Ana) and... the bitch troll... I intend to highlight the difference all throughout this story. Speaking of... I threw in a little curve-ball on this chapter... anyone saw it? anyhoo, I don't want to babble, I hope you liked it!;)

**_Reviews are highly appreciated_**


	12. Chapter 12: Overcoming adversity

**Missy's Notes: **Thanks again for the reviews, private messages, follows and favorites. I threw in a little curveball on the last chapter and most of you guys guest it right; it's the jewelry that Elena was wearing. The Jewelry that Christian gifted to Ana for her 22nd birthday or the_ collar _as her subconscious liked to call it went to Elena's possession. Elena was the _interested buyer_ from the previous chapter (chapter 5, I think) where Ana and her friends started selling Ana's things from Christian. I thought it'd be sort of ironic if the collar disguised as jewelry went to a dominatrix, don't you think? Anyhoo, we will continue hitting the fast forward button on this chapter. I know some of you guys are looking forward on meeting the characters I've added on ADSOS, Henry for one and then of course Rupert. No worries, we will get to that… eventually (wink). I appreciate your endless support, kind words and even the corrections. I hope you like this one and as always, please forgive my errors.

E L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 12: Overcoming Adversity**

_"Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with." ~Thomas Carlyle_

"I feel bad that I'm not there with you Kate. I'm so sorry," I tell my sister/best friend, Kate who is on another continent, mourning her very recent break-up with Harvey, who she'd been dating steadily since before the Christmas holiday.

"Yeah, me too, it sucks that you're not with me. But it's okay Steele, I have Ben & Jerry's to keep me company. What are you doing? You busy?" she responds with a sniff. I can picture her wearing the pink flannel pajamas she likes to use whenever she's sick or when she's suffering from a bad break up such as this. I kind of miss the old times. Consoling my best friend with a pint of our favorite Ben & Jerry's ice cream flavor and movie marathon almost always does the trick when she's going through mild _he-cheated-on-me-not-my-loss _kind of break-ups.

"Nah, Its Sunday remember? The old hag doesn't like working on Sundays. I'm at the park, running and now walking," I say distractedly kicking a few pebbles while I make my way to the nearest bench a few feet away. Sundays at Kensington Gardens have been one of my rituals during 'me time.' My guru, Sara refuses point blank to work on Sundays as she thinks even the hardest working individuals deserves a little break from all the stress. I however, hate Sundays simply because they give me a lot of time to think. Think of a lot of things that are personal; things that I really would rather not think of, especially if I have a personal life that is rather...shitty and cringe worthy. I tried everything to talk the hag into making an exception, but she refuses and so Sundays I'm left to my own devices. Throughout the course of my stay here in my adopted home, I've devised a routine to get through my lazy Sunday with a breeze: early morning run but always ends up as a walk since I inevitably end up getting a call from either one of my friends or my parents and then spend the rest of the day doing more running; personal errands, that is.

"Oh yeah, how's the old hag?" Kate says, still chuckling at Sara's nickname. Kate has seen Sara only a couple of times when the hag would pass by my room and I catch me video chatting with family or friends and I invited her to meet them.

"Same old, same old. Enough about me, Kate, tell me about you. Are you really okay?" I implore. "I'm really sorry I'm not there for you when you need me the most," I add, feeling awful that I can't do anything to ease her pain when she was there the whole time when I was… _'Don't even think about it, Steele,'_ I hear my subconscious mutter.

"Relax, Ana, I really am okay. It sucks, but I'm fine. I mean, at least I knew early on that he's a fucking shit-head. Not at all my loss, right?" I hear my best friend huff. "I just thought… oh well, on to the next guy. Can we please change the subject?" she says, impatiently. I shake my head.

"Okay. what do you want to talk about?" I say, humoring her, as I finally reach the bench and take my seat.

"Good. Let's proceed with some good news: I got promoted!" she squealed so loud that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. _Jeez, she's so loud!_

"Aw… congrats Kate!" I squeal with her but not exactly mirroring her delight. She proceeds to tell me about her promotion as well as the busier work-days ahead. I remind her it will work in her favor since she's recovering from a break-up. She agrees with me after grumbling about having no time for a vacation. I smile and tell her that it takes some getting used to especially from a girl who loves her vacation. Kate also filled me in about what's going on back home; about the new restaurants she's been with mostly co-workers and our friends, about Jose who is busy with his new-found photography career and a new-girlfriend, and Ethan who is mid-way to his master's degree in psychology. Ethan also ended up taking an apartment two blocks away after sharing Kate's apartment for a couple of months. I smile wistfully as I listen to every word thinking how much I miss Seattle, how much I want to go and visit, but would rather not as I know deep down that going back would be bitter-sweet. '_That and the fact that the memories and_ _emotions are still raw and the chances of seeing him are bigger than Big Ben, Steele; remember that,' _my subconscious snaps.

In return, Kate asks me about my life in London (not that she doesn't know already as we talk and email constantly). As usual, I don't have much to tell, except for work and lessons with Sara, which Kate mostly finds entertaining, but sometimes boring, since lessons with Sara don't include hot male Londoners that I might potentially date. I don't necessary agree with my best friends assessment about my life in London and Sara Norwood. A facet of it is true; my life in London is entertaining because of my work and the lessons from Sara and everyone in Norwood House. Over the course of the year or rather, since I started working in Norwood House, I've grown to become sort of a workaholic – something that I learned from Alex, whom I work with all the time. The man has an outstanding work-ethic and he is doing it not because of money but because he loves working. The only drawback is that he talks non-stop and can't stop talking about work.

"It is never boring, Kate," I patiently tell my best friend, when she once again tries, but fails, to convince me to open my eyes and meet guys. Not happening! '_it's possible if you just open your eyes, Steele!'_

"Oh come on, Steele, it's been a year!" she argues. One main drawback of talking to my best friend on the phone rather than emailing is that I can never escape her persistent nagging about my non-existent dating life. She doesn't see or believe that I have absolutely no time and interest on dating anyone. I had my heart broken once and I'm still working on getting over it. I'm not about to let another guy come in and become a rebound or break me even more. No thanks.

"Oh please, Kate, we're not going there," I fire back, rolling my eyes at her tenacity.

"Jeez. It's been a year, Steele, since that _he-you'd-rather-not-talk-about_ incident. Oh, that reminds me, I have tons of —" she begins, but I immediately stop her when she tries to tell me any news about him.

"Kate… I told you: I'm not interested, not anymore." I say…perhaps a little forcefully, but it's the only way she'll listen. Every time we talk, Kate always tries to bring the person or the subject that I would… would rather not think or talk about. She tells me that she has lots of things to tell me about him but I find myself refusing to hear anything that has to do with him. At first, it's mostly because of fear; I didn't want to confirm Sara's assumptions about him moving on after he dumped me. The fear, though, gradually dissipated over time, later became nothing but anger; it angers me every time I think of him. I'm angry not only towards him and what he did to me, but also angry towards myself, for loving him and for letting him… dominate me. '_Enough shit, Steele!'_

"Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" Kate says, sounding both amused and proud, which made me laugh.

"If I remember correctly, you once told me that one day, I'll look back and I won't even want to talk to him anymore. I believe that time has come, Kavanagh," I say, remembering those days all too clearly: the dark days of groveling.

"I don't remember that. I remember having fun selling all his shit and telling everyone he's a fucking cross dresser," she says, proudly, again making me laugh as I recall the sales pitch we told her mom and friends and the story Kate made up at the last minute.

"Good times," I say, when we've both recovered from our fits of laughter. "I remember everything, Kate, even that bit. I was nervous when one of your mom's friends started asking questions, but I ended up gaping and then laughing at how you quickly made that story up, thank you – I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you, Kate, really," I add, sincerely.

"Wouldn't do it any other way Steele," she says, sniffing again. "Now let's get back to business: keep in mind that now that you've moved on, the best way to prove to everyone, including yourself, is to, you know, date! Lots of fish in the ocean, my dear, and you're a freaking catch if you just let yourself be open to the possibilities, if you know what I mean."

"I don't have time to date and you promised never to bring him up, Kavanagh!" I say, rolling my eyes at my best friend. Gah! She's exasperating. _'Though she's right; if you don't love him anymore, you should prove that by dating someone.'_

"Just stating the obvious, Steele! Your job won't keep you warm at night, B.O.B's can only do so much and let's face it, a man can be a stress reliever after a long day at work," she says, bluntly, making me blush.

"I can't believe you just said that," I say dryly. "I'm moving on, I'm still working on it and believe it or not, I'm too tired to even think about getting myself warm at night so, really, I'm good, Kate,"

"Wow. I guess its back to WSU days once again, huh?" she says, after a moment.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I'll have to wait for the next guy to catch your eye again. Mind you, it took four years and a…" Kate pauses, catching her error and my silence as a warning. Finally, she sighs and says, "I'm sorry Steele, my bad."

"It's brutally honest, Kate. But you're right; it may take a while because I'm not ready… not yet," I say, after an awkward silence.

"Promise me something, will you?"

"You'll know, Kate; I won't let that shit happen to me again," I say, more to myself. I've learned an incredibly hard and painful lesson; I won't be that stupid again… ever. I take a deep calming breath to steady my nerves from pulsating with anger and resentment, then attempt to lighten the conversation by adding, "I don't want you skinning anyone and I don't want the hag chasing me around with a book or a stick, hitting me on the head, trying to beat some sense into me."

It worked; Kate chuckles and says, "Good. I'm proud of you, Steele. I raised you right; mama bear is proud."

I snort. She's right, bossy Kate acts like a mother to me sometimes, but that's because she thinks that she knows a lot of things. Plus, she's a control freak. I'm about to dispute her mama bear claim into that of a control freak when I hear my phone beep. I have another call and it's Alex. I wonder why he's calling when we're not supposed to talk about work on Sunday. "We'll talk about the mama bear later; I have Alex on the other line."

"Okay, its late here and I'm a bit pooped. Talk to you later, Steele, take care," she says with a yawn.

"Later," I acquiesce, cutting the line and immediately answering the other to hear Alex's frantic voice.

"Ana! Oh thank God! Where are you?" Alex says, almost screaming.

"I went for a run, why? What's the matter?" I say, not liking the tone of his voice. Nothing ever worries Alex unless…

"Get a cab and get to Royal Brompton Hospital this instant! It's Sara," he says, frantically. The seconds tick by while I try to find the strength to speak, then I meekly assure Alex that I'll be there, even as I feel my scarp prickle and my heart starts to beat at a rapid pace.

* * *

_"I… I love you…" she says, her beautiful eyes wary, nervous and scared. She bows her head, hiding the emotion in those beautiful blue eyes. No. she can't love me, I'm a monster. No. I don't do love. Love is for fools, for the weak; all that 'hearts and flowers' shit. No! She broke the unspoken rule; she needs to be punished…no…I have to let her go._

_"Playroom," I calmly say, though it feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown over me. Her head snaps to look at me in surprise, pain and disbelief. Her perfect face is so eloquent that, though she is too stunned to speak, I can clearly see the words 'what?' and 'why?'_

_"But Chri –" she tries to protest, but I feel my anger overflowing. _

_"Playroom!" I snarl, letting her go as I point upstairs, towards the playroom. Disappointment, disbelief and pain are now all I can see behind those suddenly misty eyes. She doesn't have to say anything; she's very easy to read. She bows her head and tries to hide the tears that came with the pain and disappointment. I blink to cover any emotion I feel_ _and she turns around and starts walking briskly, her head still bowed, one hand covering her mouth, I've hurt her. _

_No!_

I'm woken, with a start, by a loud shout; sitting bolt upright in bed, my heart pumping like I've been running non-stop and covered in sweat. Fuck! It was _me_ shouting; another fucking nightmare. I lower my face to my hands and take deep calming breaths. I should be used to this shit. Christ! I grew up having nightmares every night. I grew up in pain, yet a simple and comparably innocent memory is wreaking havoc with me this past year. With another deep breath, I wipe the sweat from my face with both hands, dragging my fingers through my unruly hair. Leaning back on the headboard, I focus my gaze on the large portrait hanging on the wall directly opposite my bed. The picture is of a young, stunningly beautiful woman, whose captivating bright-blue eyes shine out at me even though the photo is in black and white. She's smiling at something out of shot; looking radiant, happy and carefree…hell, she's breathtaking. I like to think that she's looking and smiling that breathtaking smile at me. I know that it's perverse of me to even have such thoughts when all I did is to inflict pain and sorrow on her.

Taylor managed to talk to the Rodriguez fucker and the curator into selling the photos of Ana after months of persuasion. How he did it is beyond me; I didn't give a fuck how much it cost or how he did it. All I cared about was buying all the pieces and destroying both the Rodriguez fucker and the curator's careers if they didn't sell all seven pieces to me. I won't let anyone ogle at her pictures other than me. She is mine! I was both relived and satisfied when they were delivered. I had a hard time deciding where to place them without attracting attention, as I am, in the eyes of almost everyone, including my family, a loner. So I had no choice but to scatter the portraits around the apartment; places where Mia or my mother won't bother barging in, my room for example, the library, where… she used to spend her time reading her books, her room and my study where I could always stare at her whenever things get out of hand, like the lack of Intel on her whereabouts even after a year since she left Seattle.

It's been a year since she said those three little words. A year since I snarled the word _playroom_ in response to those words she uttered with a mixture of fear, honestly and sincerity, a year since I terminated the contract and a year since I started having the dreams about her. Dreams that prevent me from forgetting about her… from forgetting how much pain I cause to an innocent soul. Dreams that wake me up with a hammering heart, sweats and a lot of time screaming for her to stop crying or… leaving. One fucking year and we still have no clue as to where the fuck she is. Is she still alive? Is she well? Is she with someone? I fucking hope not. I'd fucking kill any fucker who touches her; touches what's mine. The rage I feel at the thought is unbearable. The gaping hole of hurt – ever expanding this past year – that has replaced my chest, rips open just a little more, as if it actually is a real wound; an un-healing wound that's eating me alive every day that passes without her in my life. Is she… thinking of me? I doubt it. Again there's that pain of knowing it's probably true; she, after all, left because of me. Because I'm a fucked-up monster and I can never give her what she wants. I don't do hearts and flowers; monsters like me only do one thing: they fuck. _Pull it together, Grey. Get your perverted ass out of the bed and do something._

I get up and untangle myself from the sweaty sheets and make my way to the deserted great room; towards the one thing that is supposed to help me forget about how fucked-up I really am: my piano. I sit, open the lid and touch the ivory for a moment, willing myself to concentrate, to play rather than look at any of the pictures. Slowly, my fingers deftly move over the ivory keys and I find myself playing; a song that I've always liked because of its soft and sweet melody that I find soothing. As I play each note and sing every line in my head, I now realize that not only do I like the song for its melody but also because I can somehow relate to each and every word it says. How do you deal when you let someone go and you realize that you have colossally fucked up and you have to fucking live with it every single day? I stop. Me admitting to a mistake is a fucking first, I think. I never make a mistake. The success of GEH is fucking proof. _Anastasia Steele is no fucking acquisition, Grey. Let's face it; you have no experience on this shit. _

Taylor's polite cough reminds me that I've zoned out and forgotten the time, yet again. I stand and look at him, letting him know that I will be ready in three minutes, as I march back to my room to get myself ready for our run.

Running has always been a big part of my everyday routine. To me, running is both liberating and gratifying. Running allows me to clear my head and get away from everything else. For a few miles, it's just me, my legs, the air and Taylor right behind me. It had always been like that, until last year, when a certain brunette left and ruined it by adding one addition to my carefully designed routine. The route that had always been straight changed into a crooked line: I would run for blocks and then find myself stopping in front of a certain building in the Pike Market district and then stare at it like a fucking wuss. Thinking…no, hoping that one of its tenant would appear out of nowhere. This morning is no exception; I run for three straight miles and then, on the way back, I find myself turning right rather than running straight; stopping in front of the building to catch a breather and to gawk mindlessly. I'm a fucking pussy.

"Err…sir?" I hear Taylor say, breathing a little hard. I turn just in time to see him putting his Blackberry away, immediately knowing that he had been talking to Welch while I was busy gawking. _Like a fucking wuss, Grey._

"What is it?" I say, distractedly, as my mind begins to think of the many possibilities why he is calling at the crack of dawn… well, early morning.

"Mr. Grey, Welch just informed me that they may have found a possible lead," Taylor says, impassively.

It takes another second to process his words. At fucking last; the first hit, the first clue, the first intel in a year that feels more like eternity. For the first time since God knows when, I feel myself smiling as I turn to look at the building one last time and say, "Tell him I want a brief in twenty – no, ten."

* * *

"I am truly sorry to have to tell you this but I'm afraid that Mrs. Norwood has suffered a relapse and unfortunately, the cancer has spread to her liver…" Dr. Edmund Cooper says, compassionately. I hear Alex, who is sitting right beside me, whimper in distress.

After Alex called with the bad news, I ran as fast as I could to hail a cab and go directly to this hospital where Sara was taken by Martha, her longtime friend and housekeeper. Sara went to church regularly with Martha and sometimes Alex. The ten minute ride to the hospital was a blur. I remember thinking of the many possible reasons why Sara might have rushed to the emergency; accident or passing out in the middle of the street or even stroke were my initial thoughts. None of them made any sense, though because this admittedly older woman is so careful about her health and safety. Sara likes to walk and she would rather walk than take the Underground or a cab. She was the one who encouraged me to start my day with a walk or, at my age, a run. A cancer relapse was never in my mind when I met Alex, who was already talking to Dr. Cooper.

I've been thinking of Sara as my guru. But, in many ways, she's so much more…almost a second mother; not just because she took me in, gave me a job (hell; a career), taught me so much, and demanded not even money in return. But because I felt somehow...at ease that very first time she approached me at Cannes; a peace that I've only ever felt with my family. And now, finally realizing the depth of my love for this amazing woman...knowing that someone dear to me - all the time she was haughtily encouraging, teaching, working tirelessly and patiently to guide me out of my own personal darkness - is...it's devastating! I feel sick to my stomach, kind of numb, yet so angry with myself for being selfish. My issues, that have so consumed me for too long, are nothing compared to what she's been dealing with. I should have been the one offering support and encouragement, not the other way round."

"Don't," I hear someone say, and a hand rests on top of my balled fists. I look up to meet Alex's tear-stained face. He has taken his round glasses of, his eyes red. "Do not blame yourself Ana; a relapse is not your fault"

"That's supposed to make me feel better? For starters, no one ever told me about her cancer," I say shakily, guiltily, mad at myself for not seeing it; for not asking.

Alex sighs for a moment, wiping the tears away before putting his glasses back on as he says, "She made me promise; she said –"

"It wasn't your story to tell," I snort, shaking my head. "I had a right to know. I live with her for crying out loud!" I sob weakly.

"I'm so sorry, Ana. She made me promise," Alex says, his voice so low I barely heard him. "She's been battling cancer for three years, Ana. She was in remission last year after she finally went into surgery, followed by intense radiation and chemotherapy and now…" he says, rushing over and enveloping me in his arms, and it seems the most natural thing in the world when we then weep, together.

"What should I do?" I finally manage to say, after what feels like hours of crying.

The doctor, who was studiously present but silent while we were having our moment looks up and says, "At this point Ms. Steele –"

"Ana, please call me Ana," I interrupt.

"Right, at this point, Ana, Mrs. Norwood will have to stay here for more tests. We want to find out to what extent her cancer has progressed. Once we get the lab results, we will know the best possible way to treat it. Surgery is likely if the cancer hasn't spread throughout her liver, then radiation and chemotherapy. I will keep you apprised of her progress," he says, empathically. "Ana, the best thing you can do right now is offer emotional support and help Ms. Norwood maintain her normal routine as much as possible. I know this is hard to do, but keep in my mind that not everyone with cancer wants to talk about what they are going through or about their feelings," he concludes.

"Thank you doctor," Alex and I both mumble, too emotionally drained to manage more. The doctor just nods and shakes both our hands before leaving us alone with our grief.

**~oOo~**

Sara is still resting by the time Alex and I enter her room; more doctors and more nurses fuss over her sleeping figure. One of the doctors, an intern, Alex guesses says that pancreatic cancer or any kind of cancer is physically painful and that she was given pain relief medications that will also help her rest. I'm never a mean person but for the first time, I felt like lashing out to the obnoxious know it all intern for what I thought as callous and insensitive remarks she said, if not for Alex and Dr. Cooper who are also in the room. When i finally focus on Sara, disbelief washes through me; I've never seen her looking so… frail, or maybe it's a trick of this awful lighting and the atmosphere of being confined in a hospital? Whatever it is, it's killing me to see my guru, my friend, like this. I take the seat next to her bed and wait; not wanting to leave or sleep or do anything but stay by her side while Alex went outside to make some calls.

"Hmmm… where am I?" Sara rasps, sounding sleepy. Relieved and in shock at her voice, I unwittingly drop the phone in my haste to check how she's feeling.

"You're in the hospital. You passed out on your way back to the loft. How are you feeling?" I respond, ruefully.

"It wasn't your fault, child," Sara insists, ignoring my question, her eyes focusing on me for a moment. "You've spoken to Edmund and he and his insensitive dogs bluntly let the cat out of the bag, did they?"

"Alex and I spoke to him while you were sleeping. Dr. Cooper was… sympathetic. I can't say the same about his interns, they are…"

"Insensitive dogs, yes. I hate having them around; Edmund knows which is why they are only allowed when I'm asleep," she mumbles and after a moment of searching my face, she chuckles and adds, "you look awful, my dear child, you need to rest."

"Says the old hag who passed out and…" I snort, trying my best to be calm, for her sake. Something that I now find really hard.

"Shh… Ana, I'll be alright. Hags like me don't go easily," she says, pacifyingly.

"Why didn't you tell me? I have the right to know. I live with you." I say, ignoring the tears rushing down my face.

"We all have secrets, child. It is something that I'd rather not talk about," Sara says patiently. "Besides, What would you have to done if I decided to tell you? Pity me? Look at me like I'm weak? Like I'm someone who is in dire need of help? Did I look like I need help?"

"I…"

"You don't know…"

"You're right I don't know what I would've done had you told me early on, but at least I could've helped you by not letting you –" I try to say but she cuts me off

"I don't need any of that my dear. I wanted a normal life; a normal cancer free life and I was, cancer free I mean, for a while at least. I wanted you to learn Ana, I wanted you to forget the pain and start over; just like me. We both needed the distraction, my dear child, so don't fret about my welfare. I wasn't in any physical pain the whole time. I was in remission. I'm supposed to be healing but lo and behold it strikes again"

"Don't lie to me, old hag; you knew the whole time."

"I thought you'd say that," she says. "Child, cancer is well… its cancer. It never goes away even when one recovers from all the treatment. It targets not only the area where the cancer is, but also your emotional and mental well-being. Even when the treatment is over, you still feel the lingering pain. After a while you get used to it and I suppose that is where I made a mistake," she says, more to herself than to me. I wanted to insist that she should've told someone or anyone about what she was feeling. I wanted to argue, but instead, I start to remember the advice that Dr. Cooper told me earlier and I feel an overwhelming need to distract her from an impending emotional breakdown; something Sara Norwood isn't known for. She is always the epitome of calm.

"We all make mistakes Sara, don't beat yourself up. We won't know until Dr. Cooper and his goons finish up with the tests. You said it yourself; hags like you don't go down that easily. And don't you worry about the house; you have me and Alex," I tell her, hoping that it will work.

I think it worked. Sara chuckles and says, "I know you're distracting me and yes, it is working." I blush. Damn it, am I that obvious? "Oh, I'm not worried about the house my dear. I'm more worried about you… what are you going to do now that you know?"

"What do you mean?" I say, confused; maybe it's the morphine in her veins.

"I lied to you, I didn't tell you about this; this is not what you signed for."

"You didn't lie to me Sara, you just… didn't tell me, there's a difference and you're right: I didn't sign up to any of this."

"Either way, I betrayed you."

"If you think I'd leave because of this then maybe you don't know me too well," I snap, genuinely angry that she'd think so little of me after all we've been through.

She gives me a weak smile and say, "You don't have to stay just because you feel guilty about leaving an old hag. I've been telling you over and over Ana –"

"That I always have a choice and you're not forcing me to do anything…it's my life. Yes, I know. You're right, Sara, I've always had a choice and you've never forced me to do anything -except maybe to heal myself and for that I will always be grateful. Sara, I'm not leaving; I'm staying because you mean so much to me. Yes, I'm feeling guilty. Obviously, I know you didn't get sick because of me. But, if you have been tired because of me…because of the work we've been doing together." When Sara tries to interrupt, I hold up a hand to stop her and continue, "Don't even try denying it. Like I said, I'm feeling guilty and I'm angry, too. Angry at myself, and at you and Alex because you didn't tell me this when we've become so close…hell, I'm living in your home, for Christ's sake! We're supposed to be friends. Friends don't do that. And they don't leave. But you made your decision, I respect that. Even if you can get out of that bed and make me, I'm not going anywhere. I want to be here for you…you've done so much for me, Sara, and now…it's my turn." I'm nearly crying. I can feel the tears forming. But I shake my head to get rid of them and more strongly conclude, "That's my choice. Live with it!" I say letting it all out.

Sara gapes at me for a while. I can tell she's surprised by my hostility; something that I immediately regret, given her condition, but not enough to take back a single word. I expect her to argue, to let her stubbornness out. Instead, she sighs, gives me a weak smile and says, "All right then. You have been warned, my dear."

* * *

**More notes: **people have their ways on how they deal with adversity. This has been one of the toughest chapters that I've written thus far. My approach on this story has always been realistic and relatable. The cancer bit is something i find really sensitive; I wanted to make it right but unfortunately, research can only do as much so I'm sorry if the last part is a bit off.

CG played John Mayer's song, _'Dreaming with a broken heart.'  
_


	13. The art of letting go

**Missy's Notes: **Thank you, once again, for your continued support on my stories by reviewing, following and putting my stories to your favorite list. I truly appreciate all your support. As you all know, I've decided to throw a little surprise for you guys by releasing the first chapter of the sequel (again, thanks for the love!). I desperately needed a happy outlet while writing this chapter (there you go, spoiler alert) and thankfully, the idea came. I'm so sorry for the delay, I hope you guys like this next update and as always, please forgive my errors.

E L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 13: The art of letting go**

_"Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." ~Dr. Seuss_

**June, 2013 - London**

"That's great, Mom! When are you planning to visit?" I say, elated after a long day at work. My day at work is always long but extremely productive. I've met with a few authors, haggled with bookstore sales managers, planned with the marketing team and Alex for the release of a new book from one of the authors that I discovered and even found time to read a few manuscripts. All in all, not a bad day; exhausting, but good. It's almost dinner time and I'm walking the block towards the loft I share with my Guru and dear friend, Sara Norwood, when my mom calls. Ever since I told her, more than a year ago, that I had found a job and decided to move to London, Mom, though initially upset and worried about my decision, has promised to visit me when I'm fully settled into my job and more familiar with London life, in general. She also has been wanting to meet Sara. They've only spoken on the phone, though it's been several calls, one of which was to assure my parents that Sara would take care of me.

"Well, I was hoping you can tell me the best time to visit," my mom says, excitedly.

"Hmmm… That's tricky," I snort a laugh. The best way to describe the London weather would be: unpredictable. One should be prepared for all possibilities. One week you could get continuous rain or, just as likely, a week of glorious sunshine; it's kind of like my life these days… you never know what you're going to get. Just over a year ago, I was running around the streets of Paris and Italy, basically doing everything to distract myself from crying and wallowing. Prior to that, I was in gloom and rain, because of a man. _'A kinky man,_' my subconscious sneers and she's right. I was in pain because of a man who broke me in so many different ways. '_Enough of that shit, Steele!' _my subconscious snaps, knowing that my already gloomy mood will be far worse if I start thinking about my… past mistakes. I now understand the words of the people around me, the people who've witnessed my… misery. One day, I'll look back and realize that I made a mistake – Kate once told me that will happen. While Ethan said, that what happened to me wasn't my weakness and that the experience will only make me stronger. And then there's Sara. The hag – no – the angel, who literally walked into the café, where I was wallowing, and saved me from myself. She saved me from hurting myself and not just that… she did wonders to make me better in every way, personally, professionally. She not only gave me a career; she gave me my life back – she brought me back from the pit and into the light with her cleverness, humor, warm-motherly personality. Most of all, Sara Norwood gave me the life and independence that I never could have achieved if I stayed in Seattle. _'You mean if you stayed with Christian Grey, in Seattle,'_ my subconscious sneers and she's right, yet again. If I stayed, I would've been, in many ways, a slave. A slave to my love and a slave to him, because I would have done anything for him, for the love I used to feel for him, not just in the kinky kind of way. All the warmth and sunlight I was basking changed into gloom a few months ago, when I found out that my guru, my friend and the person who opened so many doors for me, has cancer. And she never told me, never gave any indication anything was wrong… until she was rushed to the hospital. That day changed my life in many ways; it's given me sleepless nights wondering and worrying about the person who I consider to be a second mother. I stopped looking at Sara as my boss and mentor a long time ago, and simply calling her a friend isn't enough for what she's done for me and it was my real mom, all the way over in Georgia, who helped me see what Sara really is to me; a second mother.

"Well… I've been doing some research and the internet says that the best time to visit London is between the months of June until October, and since it's your birthday in September, I figured…" I hear my mom say, excitedly, and a bit cautiously.

"That's great, Mom. I can't wait to see you," I say, truly happy that I'll see her in a matter of months, though I can't hide the underlying emotion in my voice.

I hear my mom sigh and, after a moment, finally ask, "How is she?"

"She's doing fine. Though the chemo and radiation therapy is making her weak," I say, softly. My mom was the first person I confided in, when I found out Sara was sick. She cried with me and listened to me, the whole time. She also made sure that she called to check on me every other day, to offer support, the best way she can, given that she is thousands of miles away. I'm glad that she cares, but the truth is, nothing but the endless work assigned to both me and Alex, in Sara's absence, could distract me from my worries. From the fear that's been eating me every time Sara comes home after her chemotherapy sessions. She tries to put on a brave, enthusiastic face, dismissing all worries and insists that she's okay, getting better and healing, but… I know better.

"Hang in there sweetheart, everything is going to fine," Mom assures me, for the umpteenth time. I am about to answer her reassurance with a sigh when I collide with someone or something, lose my balance and drop everything, including my phone and myself, ass first, onto the wet concrete. At first I think it's the door; locked or broken or maybe I forgot that it existed and then I realize that the door was opened by someone who is also apparently oblivious to their surroundings.

"Ouch! What the…!"

"Shit!" I hear a man say, as I scramble to get up, too shocked to say something. "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

"Do I look like I'm all right?" I say, embarrassed and fuming, as I scramble to grab my purse and my phone and see that the call with my mom is lost.

"I'm so sorry,"

"Don't bother," I snap, still angry, but when I see that the screen of my phone has cracked as a result of the impact, I glare at the man that I now realize is a cute man, no – gorgeous, tall man, with piercing green eyes, tousled dark-brown hair, teeth nervously biting his bottom lip, a mannerism that I recognize as if looking in a mirror. I can feel my anger ebb, as I continue to gape at the handsome guy in front of me. _'Wow,'_ I hear my subconscious say, and to my surprise, I think my subconscious is drooling, which is both weird and a first.

"I… I'm really sorry about what happened, for err… hurting you and for your phone breaking… I think it's only fair that I replace it," he offers, pacifyingly.

"Uhm… it's okay," I mumble, shakily, looking down as I feel my cheeks burn.

"No, I insist," he says, looking at my phone. "That's a Blackberry, right?"

"Yeah," I say, looking at my phone. "Look, it's fine. I've been meaning to replace it anyways, so don't bother."

Chuckling as he shakes his head, he says, "Look, Miss…?"

"Ana," I say and when he gives me a questioning look, still smiling as he tilts his head, silently urging me to recite my full name, I add, "Anastasia Steele."

"Anastasia Steele," he nods, smiling as he takes my hand and says, "Lovely name. I'm Henry Carlisle. I'm new here, just moved in, and I'm embarrassed that I bumped into you and broke your phone. So, please, let me replace it. I'm not taking no for an answer."

His persistence immediately gets my back up; one domineering man in my life was more than enough. Even my subconscious is wary; arms folded across her chest and eyeing this stranger with…okay, frank admiration, but wariness, too. "Nice to meet you Mr. Carlisle," I coolly say, hoping he'll get the message.

"Henry."

"Henry, welcome to the building, please call me Ana."

"Ana."

"Right, err… Henry, it's really okay, you don't have to replace my phone."

"No, I insist. It's only fair that I do so, after being so clumsy," he says, wincing at the thought.

"Fine," I say, rolling my eyes and politely withdrawing my hand, while he laughs.

"Great! Its settled, now where should I deliver the new phone?"

"Err… unit 400A"

"You're kidding!" he says, surprised and amused at the same time. "Wow. I guess we're next door neighbors. I'll drop it off tomorrow or tonight if I find a shop open," he says, with a laugh.

* * *

**June 2013 – Seattle**

"You came! Yay!" Mia says, excitedly, standing up to tackle me with an embrace when she sees me walking towards our table.

"Of course I did," I snort. "Mother," I say, when I disentangle myself from my sister, and let my mom kiss me on both cheeks. If it weren't for my parents, my mother in particular, and the fact that the tiresome mingling and chatting with people at these events is actually helpful to my business, I would just send a check instead of showing up and pretending that I give a fuck. If I was given a choice, I would fucking stay in my study, work my ass off and wait for the next call from Welch, who is busy searching and sniffing the streets of France for a certain brunette with clear blue eyes, or at least find the next clue; the next step in finding her.

"Christian, it's so great to see you," Mom says, smiling indulgently at me while I shake hands with my father. "Let me introduce you to the Kavanagh family, they will be sharing our table; Denise helped me plan this year's event," she adds, motioning to the four people sitting out table, three of them regarding me with curiosity while the other is blatantly eyeing me with ill-disguised ferocity. "I'm sure you know Robert and Denise Kavanagh,"

"Christian," both Denise and Robert Kavanagh say, politely, nodding and smiling, as I shake both their hands.

"Pleased to see you again Mr. Kavanagh, Mrs. Kavanagh."

"Oh, little bro, always so formal," Elliot interjects, smiling toothily as he nods to the Kavanagh siblings. "This is Ethan and Kate," he says, already eye-fucking Katherine Kavanagh. I roll my eyes and nod to the siblings. Ethan nods back while his sister just tosses her hair, rudely, and ignores me; clearly remembering the last time we spoke. Like I give a fuck. I shrug and take the seat beside my brother who, for once, isn't berating me with his mindless jokes, as he is busy ogling and drooling over Katherine Kavanagh, and just in time for the host to take everyone's attention to announce that dinner is about to be served.

Dinner is bland and the "entertainment" dull as shit. I sit and listen as the people around me use their money for a good cause. Bored, I try and do business with anyone who isn't busy ogling the women auctioning their first dance to willing men, one of whom is my brother, who made sure he fought valiantly and secured Katherine Kavanagh's first dance. I engage Robert Kavanagh in business talk while his wife dances with their son and my parents mingle with other guests. I've had my eye on the media industry for quite some time now since I pretty much supply the media industries telecommunication needs. And if the rumors are true, Kavanagh senior is experiencing a hit because of a series of bad investments, so I may have found my next acquisition.

"I like your approach, Grey, I'll keep your offer in mind," Robert says, proudly, which is to be expected from someone who is in denial that his company is struggling. I've known Kavanagh to be an honest and shrewd businessman since the first time we worked together, back when I was just getting started.

"Thank you, Mr. Kavanagh, let me know when you're ready," I nod, respecting his decision or rather, denial. In any case, there are other ways to penetrate and acquire the company.

"I will. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I owe Mrs. Kavanagh a dance," he says with a laugh, as he stands and leave, just as my oaf brother saunters over with Katherine in tow.

"Hey little bro, you're not gonna sit there and sulk all night are you?" he says merrily, as he sits beside his newest conquest, who is glaring at me, but smiles when my brother turns to look at her. _Christ!_

"I'm leaving in a bit," I say, dryly.

"Not too soon!" Elliot says, in protest. "So, Kate tells me that you conferred the degrees at her graduation ceremony," he adds, eyeing Katherine, who looks up from her phone.

"Yes, she was valedictorian, I think," I acquiesce, while Katherine smiles, acidly, and continues staring and typing on her phone. How revolting.

"Who's that?" Elliot asks, leaning in to look at something on Katherine's phone.

"Oh that's Ana, my best friend," she answers simply, and looks up, to see if she got my attention. I'm not sure what's more annoying; the fact that this revolting woman can so easily push my buttons or me, because that my entire world stops at the mention of Ana's name. Either way, I appear to be a slave to these two women, and I eagerly wait for Katherine's next words, desperate for even a scrap of useful information. "This picture was taken from our graduation. Its one of our last pictures together and one of my favorites," she continues.

"You are guys are cute. Where is she, incidentally? Maybe you could help my little bro by hooking them up," Elliot says, enthusiastically. I roll my eyes and shake my head, in an effort to hide the fact that I am hoping to get something out of the revolting woman in front of me but, as always, she's predictable.

Katherine snorts and wrinkles her nose as if she smelled something awful and says, "I don't think so, _Ana_ isn't here and I'm pretty sure she isn't Grey's type," she says, snidely. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be interested," she adds, wryly. She is about to say more when her phone starts buzzing. She looks down and smiles triumphantly, and says, "Speak of the devil; it's my best friend. Excuse me," she says, standing up and hurriedly leaving to take the call.

"I think I'm in love," Elliot announces, as he continues to look at Katherine's retreating figure. That's when it hits me. The whole time Katherine Kavanagh has been alternating between shooting daggers at me and looking at her phone, she was communicating with her. Anastasia didn't just disappear without a trace; she didn't just leave everything behind. Of course I guessed that Katherine knew where Ana was all this time, but I underestimated their relationship by thinking they stopped all communication when she left and that Katherine was just blaming me for losing her roommate. They really are close friends. _Shit!_ A year's worth of searching… I wasted a whole fucking year on this when the biggest clue was staring at me, from right under my fucking nose!

"I have to go," I say, hurriedly.

"Hey, you okay?" Elliot says, snapping out of whatever spell he's been under.

"Yeah, something came up, I need to go." Without another word, I head for the door, mumbling apologies to whomever I pass, wanting nothing but to leave the marquee and talk to my team. I spot Taylor at the exit, already waiting for me, and nod. We get to the valet area where the eager valet swiftly pulls the SUV around and gives the keys to Taylor. Once inside, I take a deep breath and bark, "Call Welch and Barney, I need to speak to both of them now."

* * *

**September 2013 - London**

"What the hell happened?" I ask, when I finally see Alex, with Martha and the Kents (the couple being two of Sara's dearest friends), at the waiting area close to the emergency room where Sara is being treated. I was in a meeting with the regional sales head of one of London's biggest book stores, securing what could possibly the biggest deal I've ever made for one of our children's book authors, when I got the frantic call to meet them here.

It's Martha who almost frantically explains, concern evident in her tone, and tears in her eyes, "She passed out in the kitchen, my dear. She wanted to surprise you for your birthday, insisting that we call everyone and make a lemon cake for you. I told her that we should just wait for you but she refused. You know Sara, so I conceded but on the condition that I cook and make arrangements while she rested and merely supervised…" Her voice almost fails, but she summons a brave smile and continues, "You know how Sara likes to give orders." Then shaking her head a little, as if she still can't understand what happened, Martha concludes, "She was just sitting, I swear…just sitting." Martha is both a friend and helper to my guru. She's been with the Norwood family for years, providing help on a weekly basis, which quickly changed to a daily basis since Sara started getting treatments. I didn't want Sara to be alone even though I'm literally a few steps away. I just couldn't risk it, especially in a situation like this. I shudder to think what would have happened to my friend if Martha hadn't been with her. The old hag refused the help at first, insisting it's completely unnecessary, preferring to act as if everything is normal. But, as the treatments progressed, taking a huge toll on her body's ability to cope with everyday tasks, she gradually conceded. She's been enduring intense chemo and radiation therapy after refusing surgery. She's been weak as a result; gets tired easily, has lost a _lot_ of weight and wears a beanie not because of the hair loss, but because she constantly feels cold nowadays. I know she's been in a lot of pain, but throughout this ordeal, Sara has never lost her spirit or her drive, nor shown anyone that she's in pain.

"I see," I acknowledge, too shocked to feel anything. Sara and I have had this birthday discussion since the calendar officially said it's September. She insisted that I celebrate not only because it's my birthday but because the business has been flourishing under my and Alex's care, but I refused, insisting that we will celebrate once she's in remission. I just don't see any reason to rejoice. A good year in business isn't a good year at all when someone dear to you is battling cancer. "She's been there for how long?" I add, shakily, my heart pumping and slightly nauseous with fear.

"Not long, Ana," Robert Kent says, wearily, just as Mrs. Kent approaches to take my hand, presumably in an effort to comfort me…possibly herself, too. Robert is a known political figure who happens to be good friends with Sara. The couple has provided support since finding out about the cancer, and his wife, Margaret, visits regularly to check on Sara's condition.

I nod and am just about to reply when a throng of men wearing white coats emerge from the double doors, one of them is Dr. Edmund Cooper. I swallow the lump in my throat as he approaches me and says, "We've stabilized Sara's condition, for now. She lost consciousness and with everything she's endured, her heart is having a hard time pumping enough oxygen around her body. She will be transferred to the ICU, and I hate to be the one telling you but at this point…"

"Then don't," I say, barely controlling myself.

"Ana," Alex whimpers, I can hear someone already crying while a hand reaches out to me. I don't even bother looking whose hand it is.

"She is in great physical pain and the best way, at this point, is to–"

"No…she's not going to…just do everything you can, please," I beg.

**~oOo~**

"Hey…" I say, weakly, relieved that she's finally awake. Sara's been sleeping for hours. Her doctor said it's due to the powerful pain medication they've introduced since she was being treated for cancer. I've stayed with her since they transferred her to a room in the ICU, refusing to leave her side, even when Alex urged me to go home and rest as there's nothing we can do at this stage.

"Hmmm, Ana?" Sara says, weakly, almost whispering.

"I'm here. This will sound stupid but I have to know; are you okay, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" I say, as I hurriedly wipe my tears away. I see the corners of her lips twitch into a weak smile.

"Nothing I cannot manage, my dear. Where am I?"

"Hospital. You passed out."

"Oh…no, I want to go home. Please…tell Edmund; I want to go home."

"Shh…yes you will, my dear Sara. Dr. Cooper just wants to keep you here overnight so you can rest. We'll go home first thing in the morning," I assure her.

"Oh… Thank you," she says, finally relaxing, her eyes resting as if she's about to go back to sleep. God, I hate seeing her like this. My subconscious is weeping inconsolably, unable to form words just when I wish she'd tell me what to do. "Ana?" Sara mumbles after a moment.

"Yes?" I say, shakily, as I struggle to keep my emotions at bay.

"Happy birthday, my dear," she says, smiling weakly, her green eyes, focusing on mine.

"Thank you," I manage to choke out in between the tears.

"I'm sorry I ruined your birthday," she mumbles

My heart almost snaps in two at her words. Desperate to make her understand that none of this is her fault, I almost snap, "Don't be silly, Sara, I told you – you didn't have to do a thing for my birthday."

"Hags don't listen."

"I'll say," I agree, somehow sobbing a laugh at her familiar teasing, even as I'm still crying

"Shhhh… it's okay," she coos.

"Nothing about this is okay. How can you say that?"

"Because it's true, Ana. You're going to be okay," she begins, taking my hand when I start to shake my head. "I want you to know that I'm proud of you my dear, of what you've managed to accomplish in so little time. I've no doubt that you will be successful, in whatever path you take."

"My path is here and it's all because of you. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving."

"Good," she mumbles, smiling as she closes her eyes. "You gave the House our first best-seller in a long while. Thank you, and I'm so very glad and proud to have you," she says, contentedly.

"No, thank _you_. I could never have done it if it weren't for you. Please stop talking like this… it like… it's like…"

"Like what? What am I doing?"

"Like you're saying goodbye. No. Not yet Sara. Not now, please…" I beg, holding her hand.

"Shhhh... It's okay, you're going to be okay," she coos again, her other hand weakly brushing my hair. "I want to remind you that whatever happens, when the inevitable happens –", she says, as if… no. I try to say something but she put one frail hand on top of mine to stop me. "This will probably be one of the last nagging lessons I can give you, my dear Ana," she says, pausing to touch my face with the back of her hand, as I look up. "Three things: anticipation, preparation and letting go. Remember the bit I told you about business? To treat business like… a chess game?" she says. I nod. "Good. Remember how I said to plan as many moves ahead as you can, so you'll have several strategies that will lead to success?"

"Yes," I say, nodding frantically, in spite of the tears.

She nods, her eyes focusing on mine with intense ferocity, in spite of her growing weakness, she says, "Do the same in life, my dear. Plan every move, anticipate all the possibilities you can and lastly, whatever the outcome of that move, _especially_ if things go awry, learn to let go. Learn to let things go when they're not working and move on to your next plan, your next venture, your next adventure. Do not drift. Promise you won't ever drift without a plan, my dear. There's only one hag, who will take you in if you're all messed up again?" She finishes, her voice faltering, her eyes misty.

"I can't… Sara… you can't tell me to –" I start to protest. I know what she's trying to say; everyone has been trying to tell me to start the process of letting her go but I can't do it…I just can't. I don't even want to think about it, let alone…

"You don't have a choice, my dear child," she says, patiently. "Ana, you and I both know that the inevitable will happen, soon. It doesn't mean I've given up the fight; I haven't. But, unfortunately, my body has given up. So, like I've been telling you… anticipate, prepare. You've been working hard; I know that. I also know that you've been using work to distract yourself. You can't keep doing that. I want you to prepare yourself. I want you to let go…you _need_ to let go, or you'll be a mess. I warned you… months ago, and many times since then, but you're just so stubborn," she says lovingly; sighing as she tries to wipe my tears away. "I'm so sorry, Ana. I hate to be the one causing you such pain."

"You're not going anywhere, Sara. I won't let you. Please, don't leave me…don't do this, please?" I say, fighting to stop the dam from overflowing. "What will I do without you?" There – though it's barely even a whisper – I've finally given voice to my biggest fear. These previously unspoken words have haunted me since I first heard the word "cancer" associated with my beloved Sara; the same words that had given me sleepless nights since finding out about her illness.

Sara smiles weakly, albeit serenely at me, a single tear running down her cheek, as she answers my desperate question. "Great things, Ana. You've barely even begun. I am glad to have at least witnessed your first wave of success. And, of course, I'm sad that I can't be with you every step of the way. But, you should know that I've always known you would do great things… right from the moment I saw you in that café in Cannes. Even then, with you so lost, rudderless and drowning in grief, I could sense your strength. I'm so glad you followed me here, and so glad you stayed. But, above all, I really am thankful that you're here, stubbornly ignoring my every attempt to make you go away."

I snort a laugh, despite the unending tears, "Good, coz I really am not going anywhere. I'll remain here, with you, where I should be…"

"But when the inevitable happens," she says, cutting me once again with her brutal honesty. "Promise me that when the time comes, you won't lose your direction, you won't drift. I know I always tell you to follow your instincts and that you always have a choice, but just this once, my dear child, let go… grieve, but keep a sense of purpose. No more running. Will you do that for me, please?" she asks, earnestly. I nod, frantically taking deep breathes as the pain constricts my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.

"I… I'm. Not… going," I manage to say

"And, when the inevitable happens…?" she says somberly, repeating the words as if my answer isn't enough.

"I'm staying," sniff. Breathe. "Not… goin' anywhere…" Breathe. Sob. "This is… home… this is my home now… has been since you took me in," I say, as I continue to struggle through the pain constricting me.

Sara smiles serenely as if satisfied with my answer and she reaches out both her hands and caresses my tear-streaked face and whispers, "Good to know, because you're better than that; better than being an aimless wanderer. Good to know."

**~ooOoo~**

"Ana, sweetheart, someone is here to see you: Cary Simmons," My mom says, when she joins me in the room that still contains the delicate, floral scent of my guru. This room that reminds me of the person who completely changed my life…for the better. Mom took the very first flight here when I told her the bad news and she's been with me throughout the ordeal. All I can do is nod numbly and let my mom kiss my forehead. I've been locked in this room since we got back from the Brampton cemetery. It's only been a few hours since… since I said goodbye to a dear friend. It's all a blur. A week ago, I was talking to her, she was with me… apologizing for ruining my birthday; when in fact, she was making an effort to surprise me, even though I argued and resisted when she asked me to celebrate. A week since she passed out while watching Martha work in the kitchen; followed by waking up in the ICU and begging me to take her home. It's just a week since our last conversation, when she made me promise never to drift again. A week since I woke up to find her sleeping… peacefully. It's been a week since I lost my friend and mentor. Yet, I still can't believe she's gone. I can't fathom life without her

I keep wishing that this is all just a dream; a horrible dream. I keep hoping that I will wake up, covered in sweat, or she would wake me up from this horrible nightmare; that she'll be there to make me a cup of tea to calm my nerves. I keep pinching myself, reminding myself that it's all just fantasy. I feel like I'm in a daze; some details I can't even remember. I went through the funeral without even realizing what was happening. It just feels so unreal; like watching a movie. I didn't realize it was over until I found myself in her room, sobbing uncontrollably and my mom and Martha rushed in to console me. They let me cry and cry until my sobs turned into hiccups; until I could speak enough to tell them that I was okay and that I wanted to be alone.

"Ana, sweetheart, Cary Simmons is here, should I let her in or do you want to meet her outside?" Mom tells me again. When I look up and meet her gaze to nod, she smiles encouragingly and opens the door wide to let the woman in. She's tall, with strawberry blond hair pulled up in a tight bun, she is about the same age as my mom and she's wearing a black shift dress. She nods a thanks at my mom and closes the door.

"Ms. Steele, I am Cary Simmons; Mrs. Norwood's estate attorney," she says as she approaches me. "First, I would like to offer my sympathy; Sara was a tremendous person. She will be missed."

"Yes, she was…" I say, wiping the tears that have once again formed. "How may I help you?" I ask, after taking deep steadying breathes.

"Again, I do apologize for the rather uncomfortable timing of my visit but, Mrs. Norwood gave specific instructions regarding her estate," she says, reaching to her briefcase.

That got my attention. "I'm sorry?" I say, after a moment.

"Mrs. Norwood has left specific instructions that I should follow at the event of her passing," she says, patiently.

"I don't think she gave me instructions nor did she tell me anything concerning her estate," I say, confused and completely dumbfounded.

"No, Ms. Steele, she didn't, which is why I am here. I am the executor of Mrs. Norwood's Will and she has instructed me to fulfill or execute the instructions she made," she says patiently, producing a letter and handing it to me. "This is for you; please read it and contact me as soon as possible."

"What is this?"

"You will know once you've read it, Ms. Steele; I am not allowed to divulge any information. Please read the letter and contact me once you are ready. And one last thing, she also asked me not to contact or listen to Mr. Alex Core," she says and, without another word, grabs her case and leaves before I can recover from my shock enough to even thank her.

"What are you up to old hag?" I whisper as I look at the envelope once again. It's sealed and the front bears only my name in Sara's elegant handwriting. Despite the pain, despite the numbness I feel, the momentary appearance of someone with mysterious instructions from the old hag, piques my curiosity. I've known from the short time that I lived with Sara that she liked to play games. Games that continue to keep me guessing, mind games to make me learn and stimulate my brain, she once said. She liked how curious and eager I was and used it to her advantage, with the sole purpose of teaching, which in turn, benefited me tremendously. It's so typical of Sara to do something like this. Shaking my head, I give in and open the envelope, aware that this will probably be the last instruction or puzzle from her. I stare at my beloved friend's distinct handwriting for a moment and let the grief wash through me, succumbing to my tears once again. Taking deep breaths, I calm myself and gather enough strength to read the contents:

_March 11, 2013_

_To: Ms. Anastasia Rose Steele_

_To my dearest Ana,_

_If you are reading this, then I'm sorry. I'm afraid my time is up and my body has given up the fight. Rest assured that I am happy as I finally join my daughter, Olivia and my husband, Albert, wherever they are. Again, I am sorry that I am causing you so much pain, my dear Ana. I do hope that you keep your promise to me that you will not drift and let the grief overpower you as it once did; when you left your home, and to me, when I lost two of the most important people in my life. Again, you have the right to hurt, to grieve and to cry. But please, do not lose the sense of purpose that you worked so hard to achieve. Smile, my dear child. I said this before, I am saying it once again; a smile lifts spirits. Smile for me – not because I'm gone, but because of all the memories we shared together: the lifetime of memories that I will hold dear to me even when the inevitable takes me._

_If I failed to tell you this, then you should know that I am so very glad to have met you that fateful day in Cannes. I remember thinking of my Olivia, when I saw you that day, and I remember wanting to cheer you up or distract you from whatever it was that you were thinking. Of course, I found you to be smart and determined throughout our conversation. You were smart enough to leave and determined enough to distract yourself to forget about the pain. What you didn't have was direction and frankly, I don't know what got into me (of course I called it instinct) when I suggested you follow me to London. I was worried about you the moment we parted ways and I couldn't have been more excited when you showed up, gawking mindlessly outside Norwood House. _

_My dear, you've told me over and over how much I changed your life, but the truth is: you've changed mine. You distracted me from my own personal grief and brought me light. You motivated me, challenged me and you gave me back my purpose and for that, I thank you. I will treasure every moment we shared from the moment we first met until the last. Ana, I am so thankful that you stayed and I am so proud of what you have accomplished in such a short time. Do not say that it's because of me, my dear child, because you put the work in, not me… I just supplied you with my endless nagging and an old hag's proverbs. At the end of the day, it was your work, not mine. Even though you didn't know what your real job was, you took everything in stride and worked very hard every step of the way._

_Remember when I interviewed you; I referred to this job as a challenge? That it came with a burden? I hope you do. And I do hope that you still plan on staying and continuing on the challenge now that I am, sadly, gone. I trust you completely Ana; and in the short time we lived together, you have proven so much, learned and accomplished so much with such grace and enthusiasm, that I am both sad and happy because unfortunately, I only got to glimpse your first upsurge of success and not witness the rest. Nevertheless, I am proud, extremely proud of you, my dear child, because I know that you will do great things. That said, I do want you, no – I hope – that you take on, and continue this challenge and lead the House like no other, because I believe that you are destined for greatness. I know it's a lot to take in and that I am probably asking way too much, so I would also like to remind you that – YOU DO HAVE A CHOICE. Do not fret and do not feel bad if you decide to move on with your life and take on a different route or adventure. I will understand. _

_The next pages, includes the deed of my apartment as well as bank documents, which I now leave to your care. The other documents include the necessary paperwork that will require your signature, should you decide to continue with the challenge. If you do, thank you very much. Lead as you see fit, the House is in your capable hands. You are now, officially, the owner and CEO of Norwood House. If you decide otherwise, then inform Cary and she will know what to do._

_Lastly, I would like to give you one final lesson. One – you already know this, but I thought I should remind you: learn from your mistakes. Apply this in both life and business, if you decide to stay and take the challenge, then my dear, learn from my mistakes. Surround yourself with dependable people; people you can trust. Next, is to always believe in yourself, Anastasia. Do that and I assure you, nothing will go wrong. You remember what we talked about following your instinct without being stupid? I know you do. Good and I don't have to be there to see you smile and roll those eyes at me, child. Lastly, my dear Ana, I want you to be happy: completely and blissfully happy. You do that by accepting the mistakes you made in the past. I know you moved on but I also know that you haven't completely closed the doors and accepted the fact that you once made a mistake. I know you're not ready for that just yet but I do pray that in time, you will be. And I also pray that one day, you will meet someone who will erase the trauma you suffered and bring you happiness because you of all people deserve it._

_Thank you, my dear Anastasia, for everything._

_Sara._

I wake to the sound of the door opening, tea cups clinking, my head pounding and my eyes puffy from all the crying. I realize that I've cried myself to sleep in Sara's old bedroom, clutching one of her pillows in one hand and the letter that I've been reading on the other.

"Good morning, my dear," Alex says, smiling warmly at me, placing the tray of food and tea on the table.

"Good morning, what are you doing here?" I say, groggily, as I try to straighten the papers that have crumpled a little because I held onto them as if my life depended on it.

"I'm bringing you breakfast. Your mum said you haven't eaten and I'm here to discuss Sara's will," he says, matter-of-factly, eyeing the papers I'm holding.

"Oh," I manage to say, as everything comes rushing back to me: the funeral, the visit from the estate attorney, the letter. Sara's letter, her last words. _'Too early to cry, Steele,'_ my subconscious murmurs, though I can tell by the way she's clutching the box of Kleenex, that's about to start the next wave of tears.

"Technically, I'm supposed to wait but I am not here as a business associate, I'm here as your friend, my dear. Sara is not the only one who cares and loves you." he says, affectionately. "Now eat up and then we'll talk."

"What do I do, Alex?" I finally ask, after sipping my tea.

"As a business associate, I say take it and make it your own little empire. As your friend, I say follow your heart," he says, earnestly.

"That's what the old hag said," I snort.

"Great minds. Then follows the old hag's advice," he concludes.

"I'm scared. I'm a reader not a leader and certainly not CEO material," I say, truthfully. The old hag once told me to know my limits and exceed them but this… this is insane! What the hell was she thinking? Maybe all the treatments she's gone through somehow made her go nutters.

"The bloody hag did not waste her time teaching and living with you for nothing, Ana. She won't tell you because that would be boasting on her books, so trust me, you're better than you think."

"I highly doubt that. I mean, you've been doing this for so long, everyone knows and respects you, so _you_ should be CEO, not me. I'm just a twenty-four year old drifter from Seattle, who came here because I needed a job," I say, panicking.

"This is why she picked you. No offense, my dear, but I thought the cancer had made her mad when she first told me about you. But living and working with you, even for such a short time, proved that I was wrong and Sara was, of course, right. She always told me that great minds are peculiar; I always disagreed. I'm all for logic and numbers, while she was all guts and instincts. Ana, that is why I can never lead, I will make the logical and safe decisions and those will be all right at first, but in the long run… the House will go nowhere because I am way too scared to take risks, to try new things. It will be like the young Sara all over again and I don't want that to happen," Alex says.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Alex, that's not true," I say, reassuringly.

"It is, Ana; you and I both know it. I work way better _with_ someone. Haven't you noticed?"

"Yes, though I always thought you liked working with people."

"I do, Ana. That's who I am; that's my role."

"What will happen if I decide otherwise? You know; what if I don't have it in me to run the House? Sara asked me to follow my instincts and not be too stupid, but all I could think of is that: if I take it, well I might sink it, that's not logical is it?" I say, scared and helpless. On one hand, I feel helpless… this is, by far, the biggest decision that I will have to make alone. Sara made sure of that by ensuring that no one will be involved. And though Alex is here, he made it clear that it's only as my friend. I have a choice… _that_ she made clear, to take the House and lead as I see fit, but I'm scared that if I take it I might fail her. The other choice is to leave and move on… question is, where? I can look for a job and stay here in London or move back to my home country and find myself a job in Washington, New York or even, Seattle; either way, I'm fulfilling my promise to Sara.

Alex regards me intently for a moment and says, "As usual, so many questions." He sighs, and shakes his head. "First of all, the House won't sink; you won't let it. And second of all, if you decide to 'otherwise', that's where I come in. I'm in charge of breaking it down, selling it and donating the proceeds to charity. You and I both know that Brown Publishing House be all too willing to absorb the House."

"Yeah, Martha told me they visited her once and the hag shooed them away," I say, chuckling at the memory of coming home one night with Sara fuming and telling she got visited by a pack of hounds from Brown Publishing.

"Yeah well, those are my instructions should you wish to walk away. Of course you get to stay here in the loft but the House, her legacy, is pretty much goners if you decide not to accept it."

I've been chewing my lip again. It's starting to hurt. "Alex, I'm scared and torn. I don't know what to do." I ignore the fact that I get to stay in the loft and focus on whether or not to let the legacy of my guru slip away; as she did when she was younger. I just can't let that happen. But, at the same time, I'm just not sure; and quite frankly terrified that I'm not capable of leading.

"It's your decision, Ana. I can't tell you what to do, I'm sorry. I'm only here as your friend, my dear," he says, apologetically.

_'Oh, for Christ sake! Yes or no, Steele, now what's it going to be?' _on my subconscious snaps, tapping her foot impatiently and replaying Sara's words long ago. When in doubt, refer to the ancient principle: yes or no, it's that simple.

"So if I leave, you're dissolving the company, selling it to the highest bidder and donating everything to charity?" I clarify.

"Yes. But you don't have to decide right now, Ana," he says, reassuringly.

"I know," I say, thoughtfully. "And you already have buyers… Brown House, I take it? The same company that absorbed the first Norwood House?"

"Yes. I'm afraid they love our authors, but our authors love _you_, Ana. You've built an airtight relationship with them; the only way to get them is to wait till their contract with us runs out, or if we dissolve the House. Sara has no heir which is why they came to her months ago with an offer. They even approached me and asked if could convince the hag but—"

"That's not happening, I won't let it" I say, cutting him off. My subconscious nods appreciatively and says, _'We got this, Steele.'_

Alex gapes at me for a moment and asks only, "Does that mean…?"

"I will need your help on this Alex."

* * *

**More notes:** I've so many inspirations for this chapter, most of them are way too personal to share, but two of them are Josh Groban classics, the songs, _To where you are_ and _You raise me up_. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry for the Kleenex. Shout-out and many thanks to _Contrite Shadow, _you rock!

**Your reviews are highly appreciated.**


	14. Breakthrough

**Missy's notes: **Thank you for reading, reviewing, following and putting this story on your favorites list. It really means a lot to me.

E L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 14: Breakthrough**

_"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." ~Carl Sagan_

**Mid-August, 2014 - Seattle **

I am at my parent's house, having one of those mandatory dinners, my mother arranged, to get all Grey siblings in one room, only this time, we have to welcome an atrocious woman my brother now calls his babe. Christ! The most annoying woman I know, with my oaf brother, my younger sister, Mia, who I adore, even though she can be a pain in the ass for talking like there's no tomorrow, and then my parents… why am I here? I take a deep breath to control myself from storming out of my parent's dining room, as I listen to my family chit chatting with my brother's guest. Another insufferable encounter with the Kavanagh woman and my brother is trying, yet again, to set me up with the elusive best friend, none other than Anastasia Steele, not knowing that I've already fucked her in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Come on babe, I'm sure Ana won't mind… My little bro here is ripe for dating. Besides, Seattle Nooz just named him _Seattle's Most Eligible Bachelor_. So I don't see any reason why your best friend wouldn't like him." Elliot says, sweetly; wagging both his brows, while scarfing down the chocolate cake in front of him, like a fucking pig. I roll my eyes, yet again. If only they knew.

Katherine smiles sweetly and shakes her head, not quite masking the fury in her eyes, as she patiently says, "Babe, Ana's not here and she doesn't look at someone's status or anything. She prefers someone who will _love _her and make_ her happy, _over the whole 'most eligible' thing. Besides, I don't think she is Christian's type." She says, annunciating each word as if talking to a bunch of fucking two-year olds, with her head tilted towards my general direction. Disgusting; how fucking revolting. Christ! Of course, I know that she's doing it on purpose, to let me know that she knows what I did to her best friend. Katherine knows that the real reason Anastasia left is because of me.

I smile wryly. Katherine Kavanagh and I can never see eye to eye. She is one annoying woman and I don't see what my oaf brother sees in her, to the point that he was willing to follow her around for almost a year like a fucking love-sick puppy just to get her to date him and start a "serious" relationship with him. I really don't fucking get how he has the patience for such a woman, let alone fall in-love with her. But then again, Elliot is known to like and fuck anything wearing a skirt, so I guess they're even. She loathes me and the feeling is very fucking mutual. A few things have changed since that night at my parent's gala a little over a year ago; my brother's apparent "serious" relationship with the obnoxious Katherine Kavanagh is one. After almost a year of "wooing" her, even though the Kavanagh girl resisted (not to be egotistical, but I'm guessing her hatred of me had something to do with her resistance), she finally caved and they have been steadily dating ever since. This is Katherine's first official dinner with the family as Elliot's girlfriend and everyone is happy for my brother and his annoying girlfriend. Much as Elliot bugs the living shit out of me most to the time, I don't want to ruin his chances if Katherine is the woman for him…besides, I'd never deliberately fuck up one of Mom's dinners, so I'm on my best behavior. Still, if I get through this evening without wrapping my hands around Kavanagh's neck, I'll deserve a fucking medal.

"Hey, we won't know until they meet. No harm in trying right?" Elliot points out, obviously speaking out of his own personal experience. Christ, I wonder what he, or everyone in the family for that matter, will think if they ever find out about my… secret life. Of course they won't, as I am hell-bent on making sure that _never_ happens, as the thought alone gives me chills.

"Oh! Like a blind date?" Mia pipes in, immediately interested; she loves to meddle. "Okay, so, who's this Ana?"

"My girlfriend's mysterious best friend, living somewhere in the world, but Kate won't tell me where," Elliot mutters, taking another giant bite of the cake. _Seriously, bro, there's this wonderful thing called 'chewing' that you really oughta try._

Mia rolls her eyes at our brother and turns to ask Kate directly, "Kate, tell me all about your best friend, Ana; where is she from?"

Kate takes a deep breath and says, "Well… she's my best friend, we went to college together, lived together until she… err… decided to pursue her career elsewhere. And now, she lives somewhere in err… Asia."

_Lie_. But I don't tell her that. In fact, I don't want to give _any_ indication that I'm very close to finding her best friend's whereabouts. And I certainly don't want her to know that I've been monitoring her calls and work email account. The phone calls, not coming anywhere near Asia, might i add, have been helpful; the emails however, are just work-related shit. Barney's been trying to access her personal laptop and he let me know earlier that he's close to cracking it. That brightened my mood immensely as I am positive that I will be one step closer to finding her. Yes, I'm that fucking obsessed – no – _determined_ about finding her. Other than Elliot's now fucking Katherine, the other thing that changed after that night is the fact that I've found a simpler, more convenient way to find the woman I've ever pursued: one woman, who's been evading me for almost two years now. I won't give up until I find her. Anastasia Rose Steele. The girl who's given me restless nights, a gaping hole in my chest and all sorts of weird fucking...symptoms, or something, weird….feelings since that day I stupidly pushed her away. Since she left Seattle and never returned. Ever since Katherine let slip that she not only knows where her _best friend_ is, but she also gave away the fact that they still… talk. It was the turning point in the search that has taken up all my spare time for about two fucking years; a search that has driven me, consumed me…when so much has changed, my pursuit of Anastasia has remained a constant in my life. I _will_ find her. _And when you do?_ Fuck it. I just have to fucking see her again…touch her, talk to her and hear her voice… I know that this aching…this hole in my chest, will go away. And maybe… just maybe, I can convince her to come back. _Re-hashing the voided contract, Grey? Now that's a first_

"Cool! What does she do?" Mia says, enthusiastically.

"Ana is in publishing," Katherine responds, cautiously. The look in her eyes is something that I don't understand: smug and proud combined with happiness. What the fuck is that? Against my better judgment, my curiosity piques and she immediately has all my attention. Don't want to rouse her suspicions this close to my goal, though. So I pretend to have an interest in the unappetizing food before me…another fucking thing that's changed; I eat only enough to keep me alive, because it all tastes like shit since Ana left.

"Oh, is she like a writer?" Mia says.

"Err no… more like she manages a publishing house," Katherine clarifies, warily eyeing me as she speaks. I can practically feel her unease at Mia's innocent probing.

"Babe, I thought you said Ana's a CEO?" Elliot pipes in. This gets my attention. _CEO?_

"Uhm… Yes. She is." She says, reluctantly. I can tell by Katherine's fuming reaction that she isn't happy that my oaf brother corrected her. Regardless, this… news about Ana has me eager to hear more. The fact that she is working in publishing isn't a surprise, but owning and running one? Now that's a revelation. Many questions fill my fucked up head: why? I didn't know she had it in her, to lead and become a CEO; she was a submissive, _my_ submissive, for crying out loud. How? How did she manage to climb the corporate ladder or better yet, become a CEO in less than two fucking years away from Seattle and in a foreign place? And most importantly, where? Where is she and where is this company?

"Both CEO's, tell me why that's not compatible?" Elliot starts to protest.

"Elliot," my mother says, intervening, giving him a warning stare. Grace, with her usual empathy, must've sensed Katherine's unease.

"But…"

"Enough with the match-making shit, Elliot," I say, dryly, in an effort to make it look like I'm not interested in dating. What I'm interested in is finding that girl who now owns a publishing company, somewhere, and maybe acquiring this publishing house. The plan is already forming in my head even though Welch is still out there sniffing for her trail. No matter; I'm close to finding her, I can feel it. Once I get her address, learn everything there is to know about her current living condition, I will pay her a visit and maybe… the thought brightens my mood and nothing, not even Katherine Kavanagh, who is pointedly glaring at my general direction, can ruin it.

The buzzing of my phone, alerting me that I have an email, provides the perfect distraction. I browse through the various emails from GEH executives and ignore them as emails from both Welch and Barney instantly get my attention and set me on high alert. I fight to keep the impassive mask I've been wearing as instinct tells me that, one of these emails have what I've been waiting for. I take a deep breath and open the first email from Welch.

**Subject: Progress**

From: Welch, Andrew

Sent: Sat 8/16/2014 7:58 PM

CC: Jason Taylor

Sir,

We found the subject. Awaiting instructions,

-Welch.

"Excuse me," I say, distractedly, as I make a hasty retreat.

"Use your father's study, Christian, we're not finished here yet," my mother says, giving me her best stern gaze at my "rudeness". I bite my tongue and stop myself from lashing out, not wanting to disappoint her, and nod swiftly as I make my way to my father's study. I feel myself smile. The long fucking wait is over. At fucking last, I found her and I will make absolutely sure that she won't leave and hide from me anymore. Instead of replying, I move on to the next email. I don't know what it is nor if Barney can top what Welch just did but, nothing can fucking ruin my mood.

**Subject: Assignment**

From: Barney, William

Sent: Sat 8/16/2014 8:08 PM

Mr. Grey,

I was able to crack into the personal PC and email account of the name and address of the person you provided and found everything that has to do with the subject name Anastasia Steele. I've attached the files to your own personal server, sir.

Please let me know if you need anything else.

Barney.

* * *

"Well, you've been wearing black for almost a year, Steele, trust me, you've mourned enough. Wear something different, like silver or blue." I tell my best friend for the umpteenth time as I phase around the empty patio over-looking Graces' rose garden. Ever since her guru and second mother, Sara Norwood, died almost a year ago, Ana took it upon herself to wear only black. I don't get it. Ana says it's because she's mourning the death of such an amazing woman. I felt bad not being there for her and thankful that Carla was at least with her the whole time. We all know that she's doing it because it's her new and, in my opinion, weird way of coping. Ana's other way of coping is working round the clock to the point that she already surpassed my dad and her partner in "crime", Alex Core, and any workaholic I know, with her dedication to Sara's legacy. She's been working non-stop, only coming home to eat and sleep. She's practically living the life of a hermit, and it sort of bothers me, but she assures me that she's all right and that she has Alex, me, our other friends and her parents to go to, even though most of us can only be there for her via phone calls or video-chats, most of the time. She will be attending her very first gala as the CEO of Norwood Publishing House and this gala at the World Literacy Foundation, has dedicated this year's event to the life and works one of its biggest contributors, Sara Norwood. And my best friend is asked to speak and to honor her beloved mentor. While she is deciding what to say or what she should do, I am worried what she will wear. God, I wish I was there, I miss her so bad.

"Black is the safest option, Kate. You know, unlike you, I'm no fashionista, and I don't want to wear something glaring when this event is to commemorate Sara's legacy," she says. I can tell, even when I can't see her that she's rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Enough about what I'm going to wear in a month's time, let's talk about you. Why are you calling me in the middle of dinner with your new boyfriend and his family?"

"Err… well you started it! I was going to congratulate you on the first movie franchise deal and the latest best seller. Oh, that book, I gotta say, scared the hell out of me. Oh, and also, I hate you for not giving me first dibs on that movie deal. My gosh, Steele, that deal is huge!" I say, in admiration. The one good thing about Ana becoming a workaholic monster is the success of the business she inherited from Sara. Since she took over, Norwood House or the House, as she likes to refer to it, has been producing nothing but best sellers. The exciting part is that most of the authors were discovered by Ana herself. I'm so proud of her.

"Sorry, I didn't want to jinx it and yeah, it is quite a big deal. I wish Sara was here to see it," she says, wistfully.

I decide that now is not a good time to be all weepy. "You're being modest, Steele. You've earned the bragging rights, you know. Anyway, I'm sure she's proud and thankful she left it under your care. Enough of the moping around and make sure you get yourself a good dress for that event, Steele, or I promise, I'll take the first available flight to L—" I say, stopping myself and looking around to see if the creepy bastard isn't lurking around the bushes. When I'm sure the coast is clear, I continue, "or I'll come there and pick the right dress for you myself."

"Jeez. Okay, _Mom_," she says, with a chuckle. "So… when are you gonna tell me about this mysterious Elliot?" she adds, curiously. Shit. The only thing that Ana knows about my new boyfriend is that we met last year at the Coping Together Gala. She also knows I played hard-to-get and he followed me around for almost a year before I finally agreed to go out with him. Ana doesn't know Elliot's last name or the fact that he is the brother of the sick fucker who messed her up. She seems stronger now, but I know Ana; she's under a lot of strain and I can't risk him finding her and hurting her again. Even though Ana told me many the many times I've attempted to tell about the creepy bastard that, she's not interested.

"That subject needs more than a few minutes, Steele; we'll talk about it later. I gotta go," I say, hastily.

"Okay, if you say so, talk to you later," she says with a laugh, as if she already knew my answer. Clever bitch.

"Okay. Skype tomorrow if you're not too busy. Take care, Steele!"

"Yeah. You too, Kavanagh," she says and the line goes dead. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sheesh, crisis averted… for now. I'm still not sure what she's going to say when I find the courage to tell her.

"So… how is she?" That smooth, calm voice; like a viper would sound if it could speak. I don't have to turn around to know who it is. It's pretty obvious why my best friend fell for his charms. The voice, the GQ face, bad-boy/mysterious look, all perfect ingredients to have one naïve virgin fall madly, desperately in-love. Damn it; I have to stop IM-ing with Ana when I'm around him. I can't help it though; the longing look on his face whenever Elliot tells me to send his regards to my best friend…granted this is only the second time the fucker and I have been in the same room and at the same table, along with the rest of the Grey family. I have to admit, the Grey family is very much like mine: great parents and siblings. As much as I hate the Christian fucker for hurting Ana, I can tell that he loves his family; Grace and Mia particularly. I mean, who wouldn't love and respect Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey? She's an amazingly wonderful woman. Mia, on the other hand, is a handful. I mean, who talks a hundred miles an hour non-stop? Jeez, but aside from that, she seems like a nice girl. Carrick and Grace are very nice hosts and very loving parents, I can tell. And my Elliot adores everyone including that fucker he calls "little bro".

"Why do you care?"

The great fucker just shrugs and says, "I've always wondered how she's doing… since she left. And you don't know the whole story, Katherine. I'd refrain from judging people so fast."

Why do all moneybags like him sound so smug? I should refrain myself from judging? Is he serious? "Right. I don't know a damn thing, except for her leaving our apartment every Wednesday and not returning till, what? Sunday night? I don't fucking know a damn thing, except the fact that she avoided my brother and our other _male_ friends after meeting 'this guy' that she just started dating, who never had the balls to visit her in our apartment, might I add," I say, snidely, bitterly; my blood boiling just at the thought of how he basically ruined my best friend. He raises an eye-brow at me and gives that glare that is enough to scare everyone, including Mia, away. But not me: not this bitch, Grey, because this bitch doesn't fucking care or does this bitch gives a fuck. I don't give a damn what you think or do. All I know is that, my best friend cried the fucking Nile River for months and left Seattle for good because of him. "What else? Oh yes, of course, I can't judge people that easily, because my best friend cried every freaking hour of every single day for months, was on her phone, leaving email, text and voice messages, begging that someone to take her back; drank wine, vodka and tequila every night and cried some more, when she never heard a single thing from that fucker who hurt her and left her in pieces, until she decided one day that she'll go back-packing. That fucking back packing turned into staying somewhere, away from everyone and never to return. I assure you, Grey; I'm not someone who judges people so fast." I say, sarcastically. His gaze is impassive; difficult to read. Though I can tell, I hit a nerve. Good.

"You think she left because of me,"

"Oh no, Grey – I know for a fact that she left because of you. Don't you fucking deny it, and no, I won't tell you where she is," I add bitterly. The only reason we are talking, or rather, he's talking to me, is because the fucker thinks I'll tell him what he's been trying to ask me for years. Not happening, not even over my dead body. I won't let him near Ana, even though I'm confident she doesn't want anything to do with him, anyway.

"I've given up asking you that a long time ago, Katherine," He says, smiling broadly at whatever his crooked mind is churning. How creepy.

"Good."

"Though I want to know,"

"Of course you do. But the thing is, I won't fucking tell you, so you can go fuck yourself. Shoo," I say cutting him off, rolling my eyes at him and shooing him away like a rodent.

He takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, as if struggling to control his temper, sanity or patience, which I'm having so much fun messing with his crooked, creepy little mind. I know he won't try anything here, within earshot of his family. _Yeah, I'm a bitch, bite me._ But then, something changes. Just for a second, I could swear he looks pained, and he quietly asks, "I _still_ want to know, how is she?"

* * *

**Mid-August, 2014 – London**

"They are calling you the great protégé," Alex announces excitedly, barging into my crammed office like a hurricane, holding a paper tray with two cups of what smells like more fuel (triple shot medium latte)in one hand, and the latest edition of the European magazine media association or EMMA in the other. How he managed to open the door is beyond me.

"Good morning to you too, Alex," I say, distractedly, still looking at my screen.

"You need fuel before you look at those numbers, Miss," he says, snapping his fingers together, in an effort to get my attention. It works; I look up to meet his energetic gaze.

"What's up?" I finally say, as I take one of the cups, inhaling the aroma first before sipping. Alex answers by showing me the magazine and directing me towards one of the main headlines cover. _Norwood Publishing House's Great Protégé_.

I shake my head, disbelievingly, and mutter, "It's just a few books."

"Those few books are bloody best sellers and we have a bloody movie _franchise_ deal. That's not even the best of it, we are turning this House into a little empire under everyone's noses," Alex says excitedly, eyes sparkling as he raises his cup to mine. "It's all because of you."

"Because of Sara," I correct him.

"To the protégé and the Hag, who trained her," he amends, smiling fondly at me, still holding the cup. I smile, put my cup up to meet his and we clink.

_'Remember what the hag said Steele; at the end of the day, you still put in the work,' _I hear my subconscious say. Of course I remember; I've read her letter to me more than enough to memorize every single word by heart. I wish she was here though. God, I miss her.

"I'm sure she's proud of you, wherever she is."

"Thanks, Alex."

"Yeah, yeah. The suits are in the conference room, waiting for you, you ready, my dear?"

I smile and say, "Very. Let's get this over with."

**~oOo~**

"I'm doing very well, Mr. Darlington, thank you. Please take a seat," I answer politely as I motion for him and his associates to take a seat. Albert Darlington is the senior vice president for mergers and acquisitions at Brown Publishing House. Brown House is the biggest in the UK and one of big dogs in the publishing industry. It's the same company that merged and took over the first Norwood Publishing House years ago. They fooled the young Sara Norwood into thinking that merging with one of the biggest businesses in London would help preserve her family's legacy. It did, until they took over, fired Sara as CEO and erased the Norwood family legacy and its history altogether. Sara was forced to re-build the business from the ground up and, in the process, learned a huge lesson: never trust the big dogs. It became one of the lessons Sara taught me. I sigh as I imagine my friend and mentor's reactions if she were here. She would purse her lips and shoo them away without hearing what they have to say, I'm sure of it; not because they are from Brown House, but because she'd know why they are here and she will refuse to consider their proposal. But not me: I will sit and listen to what they have to say, give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they've changed; one can never know until they try, right?

"Ms. Steele, Alex," Mr. Darlington begins, addressing both me and my COO, unequally. It seems like they're offering me greater respect, by addressing me formally. But I've done my homework and know that, in fact, they're dismissing me as a young, inexperienced woman; not a competent executive like Alex. It's not a big deal; I don't mind being considered the underdog. It helps to maintain the element of surprise and it keeps a low profile, which would please Sara. Besides, I like that they constantly underestimate me, just like Sun Tzu said in the book the art of war, _Appear weak when you are strong and strong when you are weak._ The thought makes me want to smile. "I am sure you know why we are here," he then says, predictably, with a smug smile that would make anyone roll their eyes. That's strike one. You've only got two more, Darlington. _'Keep your game face on, Steele,' _my subconscious says, glaring at the suits in front of us. From my periphery, I can see Alex tapping his fingers and fidgeting beside me, and I try to telepathically convey that I need him to keep his cool.

"We are here to discuss the business proposition you sent to Mr. Core," I coolly answer, idly wondering if he's smart enough to get the messages I send with this one sentence; that I know he tried to sneakily go through Alex, that I'm also aware why they use my trusted colleague's first name, and that I am _not_ to be fucked with. Brown House made it clear that they wanted Norwood House the moment the news about Sara's cancer came out. The hag did nothing but shoo them away whenever they sent out their people. The badgering didn't stop even when Sara passed. They we're hoping that Sara's estate attorney to sell the company and to donate the rest to charity. What they didn't know is that Sara had other plans. Her plan was to ask someone to take over her House or, have the executor break it down and sell it to the highest bidder, should that person decide not to take the House. That person is me. I'm not letting anyone erase my mentor's legacy. Not on my watch. Besides, Norwood House can do better; in fact, it deserves more.

"Yes, we are. I trust that you've taken our offer into consideration," he says, rudely looking at Alex instead of me.

Strike two. Fine, have it your way Mr. Darlington. I purse my lips and take a deep steadying breath and say, "I am just wondering, Mr. Darlington, why you send all correspondence to Mr. Core, instead of sending them directly to me? You must know that any decision will come from me."

"That's because you've been ignoring our calls, Mr. Steele," he says, impatiently. Brown Publishing's has made it clear that they wanted Norwood House the moment I took over. They used all sorts of ways to convince me to give up and sell the house to them. Intimidation; they tried to use their big dog statues to lure a young CEO into a "partnership", like they did to a young Sara Norwood. Of course, that will _never_ work. Then there's the persuasion and ass-kissing, and then the flat out _here's-what-we-think-you're-worth- take-it-and-go _offer_,_ when they got desperate, which didn't sit well with me at all.

_That's because I'm not interested in_ _selling_, I think, snidely; half my mind calculating whether or not the impatient remark should count as a strike. I decide not. A man like him isn't done undermining a meager businessman like me. _'Cool, Steele, keep your cool.'_ I smile ruefully. "And you think going behind my back, to my COO, will help you and your goals?" I respond, dryly, not quite managing to keep the edge of anger from my voice.

The men facing me, including Mr. Darlington, all gape at me for a moment while I keep the blank mask of indifference I'd seen Sara use to her advantage so many times when I'd accompanied her to meetings. I count five seconds before Mr. Darlington recovers enough to say, "I was hoping, yes. You've ignored all our attempts to negotiate and since Alex and I have known each other for a while I thought that maybe he could talk some sense into you, my dear…no offence."

Maybe I could have the insult if he hadn't said "my dear", just like Sara used to. Strike three, you condescending prick. Still, I'm content to let him waste my time a little longer; maybe I'll learn something to my advantage, so I offer a fake smile and a nod to continue.

"Good. You've done a great job taking over since Ms. Norwood's, bless her soul, passed. But let's face it; this House will go stagnant if you keep it this way. It needs to grow and the best way, as I'm sure you know, is to work and collaborate with companies like Brown House. Merging will allow Norwood House to stay afloat and to grow exponentially," he says, slowly and patiently, as if talking to a grade-schooler.

"The last time I checked, Norwood House is very much afloat, Mr. Darlington," I say, I resist the urge to smile, because this arrogant man before me has no idea that I know Brown House is struggling. "As for the growth bit, there are alternatives for growth besides merging with a bigger company that will eventually absorb us and send everyone on my team, including me, packing," I finish, with a sly smile, while everyone, except for Alex, (who out of the corner of my eye, is smiling his approval) stares at me as if I've lost my mind. I have other plans, but I'm not telling.

**~ooOoo~**

"I think we just pissed them off," Alex says, anxiously, when the suits, led by the irate Mr. Darlington, storm out of our conference room.

"I'll say," I respond, as I stand up and head to my office with Alex right behind me.

"Okay, can you please switch that bloody CEO mode off, you're scaring me and I'm not one to get easily scared," he says, exasperatedly, as he follows me into my office.

That makes me giggle. "Sorry. We have lots of work to do," I say, distractedly, as I open my laptop.

"They'll try to take us down, no matter what. You know that, right?" He says, dryly, though I can tell he's worried. Worried is actually a bit of an understatement, from the look on his face.

"I know that," I say, calmly.

"God Almighty, you're seriously scaring me."

Yep, he's panicking. But before it goes into a full-blown hurricane Alex attack, I say, "The art of war, my dear Alex; It's all about the art of war."

"I sometimes wonder what that old hag taught you."

I smile and give him a wink, "A lot of crazy things. I won't divulge; I've been sworn into secrecy."

"I don't plan on knowing, my dear; I don't want to go nutters. Speaking of the hag, Margaret told me about the upcoming gala and you accepting the honor of commemorating Sara's work."

"Yeah… Mr. and Mrs. Kent can be very convincing. Thanks for the reminder, by the way. I have to create a speech and, according to Kate, who is all the way over in Seattle, bossing me around, I also need a very nice dress," I say, dryly.

"Oh dear, she forgot about a date too," Alex laughs. _Great._

"Very funny."

"My dear, don't stress about the speech. You're talking about the hag, not some bloody stranger. You know her and love her more than anyone else, aside from me. So the speech will be an easy breezy. as for the dress… well, yeah, it seems like you have some shopping to do," he says with a chuckle.

"Oh please, not you too!" I roll my eyes.

"Just being honest," he says, smirking and raising both his hands as if in defense.

"I'm worried that I might screw it up, and do I really need to be there?"

"Brown House officially declaring war on us and your cool as ice, yet, a speech about your beloved Hag and dress shopping, sends you in fits of anxiety? Goodness, you worry about the wrong things, Ana," he says, rolling his eyes, disbelievingly.

"Yeah, well, I have my priorities," I say, dryly.

"You won't screw it up, Ana, trust me. And yes, you need to be there. Galas and charity events are very helpful in building your network, and a lot of businesses or partnerships start at galas like this one. We already discussed this."

"Yeah we did, and for the record, we don't do mergers… only acquisitions." I say, surly. The last thing I want to do is to dress up and mingle with a bunch of strangers, but Alex is right. I have to be there for business and, more importantly, for Sara.

"Then why are we discussing this?"

"Coz you brought it up and if I had it my way, I wouldn't do the whole speech and socializing thing. I would rather do real work."

"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we? You need this event to build your business contacts, especially as you're apparently intent on waging a cold war with the big dog."

"Good point."

"That's why I'm here," Alex says, smiling, as he starts to get up.

"We can do this. You know that, right?" I say, looking up to meet his stern gaze.

His eyes soften and he smirks as he says, "I don't know what's churning in that peculiar head of yours but yes, I trust you enough and yes, we can do this."

"Good. I needed that. You know I can't do this without you."

"Don't be silly my dear, you and I know what you're capable of. I'm not going to ask about what your plan is, I'll just sit, pray and wait." he says as he starts for the door.

"Thank you, Alex, you're the best," I says, earnestly. He smiles not saying a thing.

"Oh and, Ana, go to Harrods and get yourself a knockout dress, will you? You're making money to spend it sometimes, not to keep it rotting in your bank," he winks, as he closes the door. I roll my eyes. I may have found the male version of my best friend.

* * *

**_Thanks again for reading and I hope you liked it. Reviews are highly appreciates :-)_**


	15. The ghost

**Missy's Notes:** Thank you for your reviews, follows, favorite & PM's. I'm sorry for the delay; life has gotten in the way, the last few weeks and a severe case of writer's funk didn't help. Most of you guys wanted to know why CG is doing all this. Wish granted. This chapter is all about our beloved megalomaniac. Here's a glimpse inside the CG in my head; the CG in my story.

**Chapter 15: The Ghost**

_"Knowing it and seeing it are two different things." ~Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay_

_What is it about her? _That is the question I keep asking myself, from the moment we met to the moment she walked out on me – or rather – after my cruelty, I effectively forced her out of the country. She's just a skinny little brown-haired girl, no better or worse than any of the others…admitedly, every inch of her is perfection, but some of the others were fucking hot, too. I don't understand why she has this particular hold over me, so much so, that I'd turn the world on its end to find her. Finally, here I am, half way across the Atlantic Ocean and about to see her, after years of Ana-themed nightmares, years of searching for her, even after I realized that she'd packed all her belongings and left Seattle for good. Even now, after all I've been through, comes my least favorite thing about pursuing Ana; the waiting.

Waiting has always been the game with Anastasia; I swear, sometimes I still wonder if she did it deliberately, though she seemed too…innocent for that spin on the game. I had to fucking wait for her to graduate, then more waiting for her to move to Seattle, desperately searching for the perfect time to approach and engage her into a casual conversation, with the express purpose of getting her contact information, even though I already fucking had it when she finally gave me her number. I had to fucking wait even longer for her to reply to every email or text message; again for an answer each phone call. I waited, with baited breathe, until she finally agreed to having dinner at my place, in a vague attempt to show her what I really want. And, finally, the most important waiting game of all – i still can't believe it, but I actually prayed – while I desperately, longingly, patiently hoped that she'd agree to be mine; my submissive.

I swirl the contents of my glass, wondering what this girl did to me. I never wait for anything. It's real simple: I. Fucking. Get. What. I. Fucking. Want. I never waited for a prospective sub; they came to me, willingly…not to be egotistical, but fucking eagerly, too. I never wanted another sub as much as I wanted her; again, they wanted me. _Christ!_ I can get whoever I want, even the most sought after submissive in the whole state of Washington – in the whole fucking country – yet I only want her. I never monitored, or followed a girl around like a fucking stalker, yet I followed her every move from the moment we met, followed her every move even when she was already my submissive, not letting any fucker near her and now I'm halfway across the continent, towards London, where she fled after I… after I terminated the contract. I could have any woman, anywhere. Yet here I am, practically salivating to see the same girl who's starred in my dreams each night; the girl whose continued absence causes this inexplicable ache in my chest. I feel it every time I wake, trembling and sweating, from one of those dreams where her hauntingly beautiful and pained eyes silently accuse me. And, when I open _my_ eyes, I see the exact opposite; thanks to my apparent need to fucking torture myself with those photos of her, her smiling face greets me every morning, and is the last thing I see before returning to the nightmare. A feeling of dread is spreading within me, so that I'm beginning to feel worse and worse each night. This has to end, or it'll fucking drive me crazy.

_So why did you let her go and ignore all her attempts to contact you? And now you're fucking following her to London? What the fuck are you doing, Grey? _Yet another question to which I have no fucking answer. All I know is that every such question brings more of the same; questions like, "Why am I doing this?" And, my personal fucking favorite, "What is it about her?" These questions, and more, keep rattling my head, and I have no concrete answer. But I do have one fucking clue to the answer: Anastasia Rose Steele. Why am I doing all these shit for one girl? What is it with her? What is it about her? _Stupid_ _r__epetitions! You should fucking print that on a card, Grey! Christ._

_What is it about her that made me want her?_ I mean, I know she's far different than the others; an innocent, who doesn't fit into the fucked up world I live in. Anastasia is a submissive; that much was confirmed in the short time we were together, despite her lack of experience. Just like the others, she is a beautiful and gorgeous brunette with striking eyes – though hers actually seemed to look right through me, as she saw who I really am and wasn't afraid – who did exactly what I wanted, when I wanted. She let me do all kinds of kinky shit to her; let me collar her, assert my control over her and beat the shit out of her, just like the other fifteen submissives before her. And just like several of the others, she wanted more, she broke the unwritten rule of falling for her Dominant and like the others who made that mistake, I let her go the moment she uttered those three little words, "I love you"_…_ with her eyes, those clear blue eyes, shining with utmost sincerity, even though she knew that to utter those words, to want "more", would mean the end of our contractual relationship. Or so I thought back then.

My fucked up psyche keeps reminding me that she's just a girl with a certain look, just like all the others, so I wanted to fuck her. Yet part of me, the part where the gaping hole in my chest is located, knows there's more to it than that; she's not one of them, not really. She's so far beyond them that it's almost in insult to compare her to those other women…those carbon copies of the woman I hate above all others. Ana is both pure and simple. Yes, physically the same, but there's something different about her that I can't fucking identify. Everything was so different when she was around; she made everything seem all right, just by smiling that timid smile…as if…almost as if I could…oh, fuck, I don't know. Is there really any such thing as redemption? Everything I know was turned upside down when she was around; like my fucked up life got even more fucked up each time I didn't see her, and how I fucking counted the days till I got to see, feel and touch her…fuck, to touch her! I'd give anything to do that again.

Having her only for the weekend soon wasn't enough, so we amended the contract to start mid-week instead. Fuck, I'd even sometimes wake up craving her so much that I found myself breaking my own rules; never sleep with a sub, never accompany her shopping or give her a fucking collar – something that I promise myself I'd never do. So what the fuck is it with Anastasia? Is it her innocence? Or those almost too-blue eyes? or dared to use my first name… that somehow I didn't mind so much. Maybe it's all of it. I knew, from the very beginning, that I'd be tarnishing something pure. But I'm a selfish fucker who doesn't have a heart.

I knew that I'm no good for her, yet I reached out and grabbed her anyway. And now, all my actions have come back to fuck me in a big way. All of those things that make her who she is flipped a switch the moment she said she loved me; the same moment that I decided to let her go. What I didn't expect are the consequences of breaking something beautiful and pure; this gaping hole that burns, and this almost permanent feeling of nausea…as if life is actually making me ill. Hell, even the thought of getting a sub sickens me! I tried a couple of times, even went so far as to visit some BDSM clubs when I was out of town, but she's all I could see… those blue eyes haunt me. _It's called, wait for it… guilt, Grey, guilt. Admit it; you fucked up and now you're guilty. _Christ! I am one fucked-up son of a bitch. With one gulp, I down the contents of my glass and close my eyes, hoping that the alcohol is enough to let me sleep.

_"I don't understand, Sir, why are you here?" she mumbles shyly, her head looking at the floor._

_I want to see you. I've missed you. But rather than telling her the truth, I ignore her question and command, "Look at me." _

_She doesn't look up, instead she says, "I tried to call you, I sent you countless emails and messages; even tried to get into Escala, but you ignored me. Why are you here…Sir"_

_I know the answer. I can feel it on the tip of my tongue. But, when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I'm rooted to the spot, unable to say a word, but hungry to see her…to touch her. I try to close the gap between us but she matches each step with two steps backwards, and it starts to infuriate me. "Dammit! Stop! Look at me!"_

_She looks up with those clear guileless blue eyes and say, "I love you, Christian." She turns around and starts for walk away, her head bowed. I can't help but move towards her, she starts to run and I instinctively follow, but she seems to go faster. Rather than closing the distance, each step I take makes her seem further away from me. I repeatedly and increasingly desperately call her name, but she won't turn._

I'm wrenched out of the nightmare by the distinctive chime of the seatbelt sign, followed by my pilot, Stephen, saying, "Mr. Grey, Mr. Taylor; we have begun our decent to London. The current weather is pretty ideal at seventy seven degrees and we will land in approximately twenty-five minutes.

* * *

"Ana… look at you, wow, you look… breathtaking," I look-up to see the handsome face of my supermodel/aspiring-actor neighbor, Henry Carlisle. I hear my subconscious swoon, how weird is that? She never swoons on anyone. '_He is the exception, Steele. Now forget about me and start talking!' _

"Err… Thank you, Henry. When did you get back?" I say, lamely. Aside from the free merchandise and seeing his picture splattered practically on every bus and billboard around the country – hell maybe around the world – traveling is one of the major perks of being a model and, as one of UK's most successful models, Henry travels a _lot_.

"About an hour ago." With a playful grin and wink, he adds, "Did you miss me?"

"Not even a little bit," I retort, rolling my eyes, while he chuckles. Despite the embarrassing, clumsy way we met, Henry and I have become good neighbors; civil, sort of friendly, making small talk each time we run into each other in the hallway, which happens all the time.

"Ouch, I'm hurt," he says, clutching his chest and feigning hurt. "So where are you heading, dressed to the nines" he adds, changing the subject as we both enter the elevator; Henry, of course, letting me go first.

"I'm attending a charity gala at Claridge's," I say, shyly, as his piercing green supermodel eyes take in my appearance, from head to toe. His thorough once-over makes me blush, though I'm not sure why; we're just friends. Embarrassed, I try to divert his attention, "How about you; where are you heading?"

"Claridge's, you say? Now that's cruel; you're heading to a fancy event while I'll end up eating alone, and probably somewhere dodgy, coz my fridge is empty and I'm too hungry to bother with somewhere nice," he moans, theatrically rubbing his stomach, which makes me laugh.

"It's an unfair world," I tease, and, with a typical good-natured response, he laughs with me.

"So who's the lucky man?"

"What lucky man?"

"Who's your date?" he says, rolling his eyes, impatiently.

"Oh; no one. Actually, a colleague is accompanying me, but it's not really a date. It's Alex. You may have seen him running around? This is a business gala; very boring," I respond, absentmindedly word farting, while my subconscious mutters and kicks a few chairs, no doubt regretting that we didn't think to invite my hunky neighbor…yeah, she's officially gone cray-cray. Why would a hunky model accompany a Plain Jane like me, when he has access to the hottest supermodels on the planet? '_True,' _my subconscious sighs in agreement. Besides, I'm not interested; he's hot, yes, but that's about it…okay, and nice, but I'm still not looking…okay, I'm looking – he's gorgeous, after all – but I don't want a boyfriend right now. It's not even in my list of priorities. I got my heart broken once; I'm not letting it happen to me again.

"Ah, the chap with round glasses? Yes, I've seen him. Well, he's a lucky man, regardless. With the way you look tonight, Annie, you're really going to turn heads. You just gave the old wankers at that gala plenty of excuses to ditch their dates," he says with a smirk, just as the elevator opens to the lobby, and I can see the limo Alex has rented for the occasion, parked in front of the main entrance.

"Yeah, right," I respond, dryly, as we cross the foyer.

Touching my elbow for a moment, to ensure that I'll look at him, Henry says, "I'm serious, Ana. Every man in that room will be standing in line for a chance to talk to you and trying to find out if you're… you know, taken."

"I highly doubt that," I scoff.

Henry shakes his head, smiles fondly, and says, "You don't see yourself do you? I guess that's part of your charm." Once again he shakes his head, bites his bottom lip and shifts his feet, a trait that I find all too familiar. Henry smiles as he opens the main door for me and, before I can think of a playful reply, adds, "Let's just say, I'd be at the front of that line."

"Huh?" Is my brilliant response.

"That's my cue to leave. Have fun tonight, Annie. Try not to get too friendly with those blokes, will you?" Henry says, as he makes his hasty and rather sheepish retreat, without letting me say anything more…intelligible. Weird.

"He would be one dashing date," Alex observes, and I realize I've come to a stop, just staring at Henry's back, which is already almost at the corner.

"Well he's a model, so…" I concede.

"That he is. So, why didn't you ask him? Your two are obviously friendly and it's also obvious that your _neighbor_ fancies you," Alex says, with a knowing smirk. Unbelievable.

"I can't believe you just said that. You need to get your eyes checked, Alex."

"They get checked regularly, my dear. I'm just stating the obvious. Maybe your eyes need checking, because you appear to be quite blind."

"I highly doubt it," I respond dryly.

"As you wish." '_Smug bastard,' _subconscious once, she and I agree.

**~oOo~**

Henry was right; Claridge's is one fancy place for a party. It's a beautiful hotel located at the heart of the Mayfair District, the most prosperous area of central London. It is within walking distance of the famed Hyde Park, as well as the Buckingham Palace. The limo driver drops us in front of a VIP entrance, reserved only for those attending the festivities. As Alex escorts me from the car to the reception area, I feel like I've been transported to a whole new world; the entire building is simply beautiful and timeless with its elegant decor. Inside, predominantly white flower arrangements decorate every corner of the massive room; white marble, antique mirrors and grand chandelier give it a vintage, Art Deco feel. I am mesmerized, intimidated, awed and anxious – and that's in the first few seconds – when I finally notice the people in the room. '_Keep it together, Steele!' _my subconscious admonishes.

"Ana, remember what the hag said?" Alex whispers, apparently sensing my unease.

"Which bit?"

"The bit about the two C's: charm and confidence. Oh, and the bit about knowing and accepting your assets?"

"Yeah… I'm okay with the confidence bit, I think…well, faking it, anyway. But the charm part needs some more work," I say, swallowing the bile that has been forming. I suppress a groan. Sara, why did you die so soon?

"If you ask me, you're already charming everyone in the room. Looks like that Henry bloke is right; a lot of heads are turning," he says, smiling playfully.

"Very funny," I roll my eyes and offer him a sweet sarcastic smile instead.

"Don't forget the bit about knowing your assets, Ana. You are an asset; not only because of that creative head of yours, but everything about your personality. Just be yourself and smile."

Before I can think of a reply, I see Margaret Kent, wife of a well-known politician, Sir Robert Alexander Kent, CEO of the Kent's shipping empire, Chairwoman of World Literary Foundation, and Sara's longtime friend, approach us. After a quick greeting, she and Alex both introduce me to just about everyone in the crowded area. In a span of twenty minutes, I've smiled, shaken hands and conversed with several people; dignitaries, a lot of businessmen (one of whom is the heir to Brown House, known for being a partygoer), politicians, an athlete and even a Hollywood celebrity. The anxiety I felt when I entered the reception area, ebbs with each friendly face, but reignites when the bell rings to announce dinner; the meal will be followed by the speakers. Speakers include me. _'You got this Steele; we're talking about the hag here! Think of her, not the listeners,' _my subconscious chides.

I am grateful that the Kents are insistent that I sit at their table, as Margaret, Robert and Alex provide the perfect distraction to calm my nerves. Robert, like Alex, likes to talk – nonstop, while Margaret has a no-nonsense sense of humor that sort of reminds me of Sara. Sitting with the Kents also provides an opportunity to meet the rest of their family. I've already met their youngest daughter, Arabella, from the… funeral and a few occasions after that. Ara is young and sweet; very ladylike. Her older brother, Rupert Kent, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. He lives in Monaco and was unable to attend the funeral. I found our introduction to be both awkward and frankly, a bit weird, mostly because everyone, particularly Rupert, acted weird and awkward, the moment we were introduced. Other than that incident… Dinner goes by in a blur and, as the catering staff quietly and unobtrusively clear, Margaret stands goes to the podium and welcomes everyone. A few unsteady breaths later, I hear my name being announced, followed by applause. I stand, glancing to Alex for a final show of support. Yet again proving his worth to me, he offers a reassuring smile and mouths, "For the hag." Acknowledging his kindness with a nod, I begin my march towards the podium.

I am acutely aware that all eyes are on me, and I don't like it one bit. Once there, I find that the spotlight provides a bit of a protection, despite the fact that it's there to highlight me, all I can now see is the bright light and shadows; the individual faces of my audience now mostly concealed. Taking deep breaths to calm my nerves, and focusing on the fact that this isn't about me, but about a dear friend and mentor who lost her battle to cancer, I close my eyes and take one last, calming breath and smile as I picture my dear friend, Sara, rolling her eyes as she watches me…from wherever she is. _'Showtime, Steele, show them what you got.'_

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you all, for joining me to pay tribute to a colleague, a boss, a mentor, a guide, a guardian and a very dear friend. If you're very lucky, she was one, or maybe some, of these things to you. For me, she was all of them.

First and foremost, those of us who knew her well enough to call 'the old hag', are well aware that she would consider this entire evening preposterous and completely unnecessary. Sara was humble that way; just one of the many things I admire about her. However, she's not here, which is unbelievably sad, because she still had so much to give…to say. If she could be here and say just one word to you, it would be 'smile', because a smile lifts spirits.

It's a privilege to be here, and I'm thrilled that so many of you have taken the time to help me honor a truly good and great person. Even though we are of many different ages and have all kinds of jobs and interests, I'm certain that we all have one thing in common: our admiration and respect for a wonderful person who, in so many different ways, touched the lives and hearts of almost everyone in this room, including myself. That person is, of course, Sara Norwood; a woman who embodied grace, determination and strength. A tenacious fighter with a no-nonsense attitude towards life, she is considered by many, including myself and the rest of Norwood Publishing House, an inspiration…and will continue to be so for many years to come.

I've had the chance to interact with most you at the reception hall, while we waited for that delicious dinner to be served. Many of you have known Sara for a quite some time; some worked with her; some knew her through her vast web of business connections, a few lucky souls have grown up with her as dear, dear friends. I realize that my time with the hag, as she liked to call herself, was comparatively short, especially to those of you she considered friends, even those she merely worked with. Compared to you, my time with Sara was…nothing. In the long and exquisitely colorful story of Sara Norwood's life, I am but a few pages in the last chapter. However, in the story of my life, we meet Sara at the very beginning of the second chapter, and she _will_ be part of the rest. To say that Sara changed my life is an incredible understatement…she _made_ my life. Sara is, in many ways, my hero – a stubborn, nagging hero, with her blunt observations, peculiar and remarkable mind, endless instructional games, quotes and English proverbs. She saw something in me that no one, not even I, knew existed.

I've heard it said that it only takes one person to change our life. I'm sure you've guessed by now that, for me, that person was Sara. Of course, I didn't know that's what she was doing when she found me in a French café, mindlessly staring at a pastry, as if it were to blame for all the bad choices I'd made in my life. As if she could read my thoughts…she was good at that, Sara asked what the innocent pastry had done to me, basically pointing out that I was an idiot for expecting a treat to give me the answers…anyway, I'm not going to elaborate, but the point is; my life changed in that moment. She lovingly encouraged a lost soul to find a new beginning, a sense of direction. Any success I've achieved…or will achieve, from that moment on, I owe to Sara.

It is my honor to have been chosen to pay tribute to a friend, and share my memories of her, but also to celebrate the positive impact she had, not just on me, but on so many people, of all ages around the world. Sara lived a full life and fought many battles. And, though her battle with cancer eventually took a toll on her…finally forcing her to slow down, one thing remained constant: her passion for books and her passion for helping others, through this organization. Please join me in a moment of silence, and then a toast, to pay tribute to a fallen hero: Sara Norwood…

This is for you, Sara. Cheers!" I did it! And without breaking down. _'Of course you did,' _my subconscious murmurs, not her usual snarky self. Is she crying?

* * *

I've been seated at a small table near the back of the room, as requested, and I'm stunned by what I'm seeing. The Anastasia Steele they know here in London is far different from the girl I knew in Seattle. The Ana I knew is barely recognizable from the confident, professional woman standing behind the podium; offering a dazzling, genuine smile to all who stand and echo the simple but sincere toast, "Cheers!"

Every fucker in the place…okay, including me, is clearly impressed with the heartfelt tribute to Ana's supposed "mentor". This late Sara…Norwood, died about a year ago, according to the man beside me, who apparently worked with the woman years ago. Here, Ana is the great protégé, who did amazing things after inheriting her mentors' business…a fucking publishing house. Unfuckingbelievable.

"Brilliant young woman. They're so right to call her Sara Norwood's protégé. In fact, at the rate Ms. Steele is going, she'll eclipse even Sara's achievements," says another man at my table, once the applause died down and everyone had resumed their seats.

"You know her; Ms. Steele, I mean?" I ask, morbidly curious as to what Londoners think of my Ana.

"Oh yes, I remember the old hag introducing her to me; I'm in the business of selling books, so we'd often negotiate. At the time, Ms. Steele was still in training, and accompanied Sara everywhere. That young woman can talk…timid at first, but she's got smarts and it shows; taking over the House at such a young age and making it even more successful. She'll go far, that one; of that I have no doubt," he says, taking a swig of his champagne and staring in Ana's direction with a covetous look that has me visualizing grabbing his head and smashing his face into the table. _Calm, Grey; calm. The steam coming out your ears will soon attract attention._

"How has she made the business more successful?" I smoothly enquire, playing it cool, but desperate for any scrap of information about Ana. After finding her current whereabouts, I had Welch dig into her new life in London, but even he couldn't find much; nothing but the basic facts like home address, work and contact information. I've chosen not to call, show up unannounced at her work or visit her in her apartment, though I desperately wanted to. I needed to fucking sort this shit out in my head before I made my move. One option was to send her an email and make arrangement to talk, in person. Thanks to Barney breaking through the Norwood House firewalls, I have Ana's work email and a copy of her schedule, so I could have gone that way, but the chance of her rejecting me or, worse, just never answering, was too great; a "chance" encounter at a gala was much more appealing.

Boy, was I right; this is much better than once again waiting for a reply. My fucking dick is hard just looking at her. She looks simply phenomenal in that simple black dress that hugs the curves of her body – she was always too skinny when I knew her – with an almost immodest V neckline low enough to tease anyone, including me. Her hair, styled in a simple chignon with little to no make-up and no jewelry. She looks beautiful. My dreams haven't done her any justice. _She is crying in your dreams, Grey. Go figure._

She hasn't seen me, of course, because I deliberately arrived late enough to miss the meet and greet before dinner; when our hosts, the Kents, thanked everyone for attending. Pity, though, I would have liked to see how Ana interacts on a personal level…oh, and the chance to hold her hand in that moment before she recognized me. But it was too risky if I want to stay in control of this reintroduction. _Earth to Grey; the fucker is answering your question._

"Norwood House has been steadily gaining clients – authors – since she took over, and a lot are best sellers, which is very good for the entire book business, if you ask me. Plus, I hear she's just signed a movie franchise deal and made a few acquisitions, here and there." Someone else agrees with him, and the conversation about the apparently gifted Ms. Steele continues. I wonder what these fuckers would do if I suddenly told them how I know her? Still listening to the conversation, I try to keep my eyes on Ana, who is now on the move. I need the perfect opportunity to approach her. _Why don't you just fucking go up to her and say, 'Hello, Miss Steele; we meet again. I brought a new contract for you to peruse and sign, at your leisure,' and be done with it, Grey?_

"Well that's why Brown House has been clamoring to acquire her. But alas, for them, I hear she's steadfastly refusing them; that she'll never work with the same House and absorbed the first NPH. She learned from the hag," says the first fucker, with a smirk. This gets my attention. Someone is trying to buy out my Ana?

"Really?" I say, absentmindedly, giving him just enough to keep him talking.

"Mr. Grey, you clearly aren't from around here, so I understand that you don't know what a big deal this is. Norwood Publishing House and Brown House have quite a bit of history. The first NPH was absorbed by Brown House ages ago; technically doesn't even exist anymore. They tricked a young Sara Norwood into a "merger" that was actually, and almost literally, a _bloody_ acquisition. Sara was fired as CEO and left with nothing but her name, which was well respected even then, thank God. She started over, but it was never as big as the first NPH, until Sara met her protégé in Ms. Steele. That young lady and her second in command, Alex Core, are a formidable team; attracting talented authors, and keeping them, thus making the business more profitable than ever. NPH is now a runaway success; nothing can stop them…stop Ms. Steele." Who the fuck is this Alex Core? Is he fucking her? Welch said no evidence of Ana being in a relationship. But this oblivious fucker says they're a "team." _Breathe, Grey. You need to stay in control and keep your eye on the prize._

"I see," I comment, because I need to say something, even as I glance over to where Ana is, surrounded by people eager to greet her. Seems like things have changed; she's changed…or maybe this is a glimpse of who she is outside the lifestyle I introduced her to? I never saw that side of her. The conversation has moved on, for now, so I entertain myself with wondering what she'll do when I finally walk up and greet her. Will she be surprised? I fucking hope so. That is the point of this exercise, after all. I need her flustered, so I can run the show, like old times. Will she cast her eyes down, maybe bit her lip? Fuck, that lip! _Yes, please. _Will she talk to me, maybe let me hold her after a little while…will she come back to me? There's still too much unknown, but I have to take this risk. After all, I have a pretty good chance of success; one thing I do know is that she is, first and foremost, a submissive. That much cannot have changed, no matter the time and distance. he is still Anastasia; my submissive.

"Do you know Ms. Steele?" One of the fuckers asks, eying me with curiosity, along with the others around the table. Fuck! All this time, I've been staring at Ana like she's a steak dinner and I'm a starving man. _I fucking warned you; back off and play it cool._

Assuming a relaxed slouch, that is far from what I feel, I return the nosey fucker's gaze and coolly reply, "That's why I'm here; I own a publishing house in Seattle. I'm here to…meet Ms. Steele and see if she's interested in expanding into the States."

**~oOo~**

The rest of the evening passes by rather slowly. I remain glued to my seat, listening to the people around me. I lost interest the moment they stopped the chatter about Ana. I find myself waiting, yet again, for the right time; the perfect opportunity, to talk to Ms. Steele – alone. I sit and watch her talk and smile, all the while fighting the urge to walk up, throw her over my shoulder and whisk her away; take her home. This interminable fucking waiting, though excruciating, gives me an opportunity to see her outside the confines of my apartment; something that I only got a glimpse of via the portraits I eventually acquired from that fucking photographer.

Now, watching her in the "real" world, I'm seeing her in a whole new light…almost as if I'm seeing her for the first time. She's not wary or aloof…not the "toy" who moved only at my command and spoke only when spoken to. She still has some of that charming, naïve shyness that I saw when we first met, but even so, she's somehow confident; the way she firmly shakes a hand or accepts a polite kiss on the cheek, all the while smiling and meeting people's eyes as if they're momentarily the center of her world, making me afraid that the grinding of my teeth will soon become audible. Motherfuckers; touching her when I cannot!

I've been staring at her for quite a while before I realize what's different; she's no longer afraid of crossing some invisible line and attracting punishment. Fuck, she's actually fucking radiating charm and confidence as she moves amongst these lesser mortals. Christ! It's fucking arousing. It takes every trick I've ever learned to bring my body under control; can't go walking across a crowded room with my dick standing at attention!

Of course waiting until I'm about ready to admit defeat, the perfect opportunity finally arrives when my Ana starts makes her way out of the ballroom, alone. It's a slow progression as people kept stopping her and I can guess that she's too shy or polite to refuse them. I follow her, discreetly, until she's finally, truly alone in the ideal setting; a quiet balcony above the hotel's courtyard, overlooking the night lights of London. She shuts the glass door behind her, preventing anyone from following…except fucked up stalkers from Seattle. It's as if she's somehow heard my silent wish and has complied; finding the one place we can be alone in this crowded building. She's looking at the view, so hasn't yet seen me, lurking on the other side of the French doors like the perverted ass that I am. This close, and all I can do is stare at her as she stands all alone, wistfully looking at her champagne flute, perhaps reminiscing about the woman she just paid a tribute to.

She practically stumbles towards the nearest bench and takes a seat, her head bowed and her chest heaving as if she's fighting back tears. For some reason, I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to ease all her pain and put a smile on her face. _Where the fuck did that come from?_ It's time. I open the door; the sound loud enough to attract her attention. She doesn't look up, like I hoped she would. Instead, she finishes her champagne in one, resolved mouthful and stands, still refusing to acknowledge whoever intruded on her solitude.

"Miss Steele, what a pleasant surprise," I say, enjoying the utter shock that registers, not just on her face, but throughout her body. It's nice to know that she hasn't forgotten my voice. Her panicked gaze flickers around for a second, perhaps looking for a way past me, or checking if anyone can overhear us. _No baby. It's just us; you and me, alone. _This time I actually want to wait; to give her this chance to say something, so I'll have some idea how to proceed. But the excitement of seeing her, and getting this chance to be alone with her, overrides the patience…what little I have. I ignore that fact that she's quite clearly still in shock, now refusing even to look at me, and say, "You look good; London suits you."

I realize, belatedly, when she still doesn't look up; she's waiting for a command. _Yes, once a submissive, always a submissive._ I smile. Some things never change. There's hope, after all. This is the Ana I know and I should be happy, but for some reason, that aching gap in my chest actually fucking widens. _What the fuck? This is what you want; her on the back foot._ I shake my head, ignoring the shitty feeling and add, in a soft but commanding tone, "I've missed you, Ana. Look at me."

Her breath hitches at the sound of her name from my lips, and I know she's still mine. But then…it's as if my soft command falls on her like a bucket of cold water. She suddenly stands straight; steadfastly…no, angrily meeting my gaze as she says, "You don't get to order me around anymore, Mr. Grey." Taking a deep breathe, she looks right at me; those fucking pure blue eyes staring right into where my soul should be…I'd forgotten their power. I should be used to them, as I've seen them practically every day; those sad eyes at night, and the smiling eyes when I wake. But these eyes, I've never seen before – not waking of sleeping – these flint-edged, stormy orbs are filled with ice-cold fury. The force of it takes my breath away, rendering me momentarily speechless. Fuck, fuck, fuck…she…she fucking hates me! _What did you expect? You fucked her and then fucked her over. And, she's got a point; you're not in command anymore, Grey._

"True –" I acquiesce, but she's not ready to let me make it right. _Fuck._

"Cut to the chase, Christian, what are you doing here?" she bites. She's defying me and I should be fucking furious, but instead, the sound of my name and the sight of her; angry as fuck and looking fucking hot, arouses the hell out of me. Suddenly, all I want to do is reach out to kiss her, hold her and fuck her like there's no tomorrow. _Relax, Grey._

"We need to talk, I—"

"No, we don't. You and I have _nothing_ to talk about," she says, her chin jerking up, refusing to back down. I feel my temper start to flare. _Relax_. _Stay in control._

"Anastasia," I say, in that tone I know she recognizes as Dominant Christian.

"Don't you dare 'Anastasia,' me! Don't you dare use that tone and act as if you own me, Grey! You forfeited that right long ago," she retorts, her tone rising along with her obvious distress. Fuck! This is not how it's supposed to go; she's…fuck, _is_ she submissive? She sure as fuck isn't acting like it. I need to make this right, but how? Ana glares at me, her chest heaving with emotion, nostrils flaring as she fights for breath, her lips moving as if she wants to say more…very fucking distracting. In a state of shock at her unexpected wrath, I struggle to bring my emotions under control, fully aware that we'll be overheard if we don't keep the volume down. This shit isn't going according to plan. I'm still trying to compose myself, to think of something to say, when Ana suddenly ducks around me and flees from the balcony. I'm too shocked even to make a grab for her as she runs past. _What the fuck just happened?_

* * *

"Alex, something happened. I need to go, please offer my apologies to the Kents. Tell Margaret I'll call her tomorrow. Don't worry about me, I'm fine, I just have get out of here. Talk to you tomorrow, bye," I say, trying to keep the panic from my voice as I leave a message, knowing that he would have turned his phone off while I spoke. He'll check it when he can't find me. _'Run! Just run. Don't let him get near you again, Steele,'_ my subconscious urges and, instinctively, I obey.

I dash across the room and out the exit, ignoring everything; including the fact that I'm wearing five inch heels, that I'm at a gala and that someone might see me and think that I've gone crazy. All I know is that the very man who broke me, the reason why I left everything behind in Seattle, is here, wanting to speak with me. All I know is that everything in me is screaming at me to get away from him. Seeing him again…hearing him again, is the last thing that ever crossed my mind. How could this happen? I shake my head; it doesn't matter. I just have to get away from this place…right now!

"Hey… Anastasia?" I hear someone call. For the briefest, terrified moment, I worry that he's followed me. But it's not his voice. I turn to see Rupert Kent approaching me.

"Yes?" I say, breathlessly. Fighting the urge to just keep going, I stop and wait for Rupert to catch up; still mindful that _he_ might appear at any moment. I remember, all too well, how fast he moves.

"Are you all right? You seem upset."

"Uhm… not really, I need to get out of here," I say, again struggling to keep the panic from my voice.

"Err… o-okay." Reaching out to almost touch my arm, Rupert then returns his hand to his side and adds, "Blimey, you're trembling. What's wrong?"

"Uhm…an urgent family matter; I need call my parents," I say, frantically, still looking around and gasp when I see _him_. Shit. "Listen, I really need to go…"

"Should I call Alex? I believe you arrived together."

"No! I left him a message. I'll just get a cab," I say, as I start to walk briskly, again while Rupert follows.

"Nonsense. How about I drop you off? I was ready to leave anyway. I've fulfilled my obligation as a dutiful son."

"Why would you do that for me?" I say, completely flustered. He was weird throughout dinner; not talking, completely ignored me, now he's all…friendly? '_Dammit, there's a copperhead right on your tail and you're thinking about how this guy is acting all weird on you, Steele?' _Even my subconscious is starting to sound panicked; practically screeching at me.

With a shrug, Rupert confesses, "I want to start over. I know that I acted like an idiot throughout dinner, so—"

"Let's go," I say, not letting him finish.

**~ooOoo~**

"Mind telling me why you left in such haste? You practically flew out of there." Rupert asks. With a cheeky grin, he adds, "I'm not buying that "family matter" story; you were running _from_ something, not _to_ something." We ended up taking the first cab in the line nearby, as I didn't want to risk waiting for his car. I didn't want _him_ to keep up. I'm surprised Rupert insisted on accompanying me, given his earlier behavior. But someone semi-friendly by my side might come in handy if I'm pursued.

"Oh… uhm… I just wanted to get away," I say, lamely.

"I'm guessing you were running away from someone," he smirks. "Wouldn't happen to be me, would it?"

"Err, no." I say, and we both laugh.

"Listen, I want to apologize, for being an arse, and for acting rather…"

"Weird. No worries, I understand. I miss them too, Sara, at least," I say, truthfully. At first, I couldn't understand his behavior; almost snobbish to the point of offending me. But I remember now; Olivia Norwood, Sara's only daughter who died on an accident. Olivia, the hag told me, was engaged to Rupert, until her untimely passing. Suddenly, Rupert's absence at Sara's funeral and his strange reaction on meeting me, makes perfect sense. He is still grieving. "I'm so sorry. I never met her. But I know…you must miss her very much."

"I miss her every day," he responds, wistfully. There's a pause. Olivia must've been an amazing woman, because this guy is still, obviously, madly in love with her. After a while, Rupert shakes his head and apologetically adds, "But it still isn't an excuse to act like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No need," I say, reassuringly, and he smiles. He should do it more often. Just then, the cab stops in front of my building.

He climbs out of the cab and extending his hand to mine as he leads me out of the car. Again, he looks wistful, almost torn, on seeing the building. He takes a deep breath and says, "This place hasn't changed one bit."

"It's mediaeval," I acquiesce, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well… thank you, for the cab ride, I would offer you some tea, but—"

"Maybe next time," he finishes, with a tight smile, still looking at the building that must have too many memories of him and Olivia. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my mum will invite you over for some tea."

"I'm sure she will," I agree. Margaret assumed an almost maternal role towards me, after Sara… left. It's very kind of her, considering she's got a packed schedule, and I enjoy spending time with all the Kents…apparently even their only son, once he acts human.

"Well then, I'll see you around, Anastasia. Err, unless you're still scared and want me to walk you in?" Is he blushing? He's suddenly shy and awkward…this evening is full of surprises.

Glancing around for signs of the enemy, I see nothing. "Thanks again, for the ride, Rupert. I'll be fine. And please call me Ana."

"Right, Ana. I'll watch you go inside." With that grin that I'd thought mocking, but realize now is actually self-deprecating, and kind of charming, Rupert adds, "Just to be on the safe side."

"Thanks," I say, instinctively checking my surroundings once more, making sure we haven't been followed; nothing out of the ordinary. I take a deep breath and let myself in, thankful that the apartment has a decent security system despite its medieval façade, though something tells me that it isn't over. Whatever has brought Grey to London, he won't be able to let me get away with "winning" this round. Shock and paranoia creep in as I recall what just happened. He was at the gala. How did he find me?_ 'Or better yet; why?' _my subconscious chides. She's right…I hate it when that happens. Even assuming Grey is here by chance – what if he's not; what if he came here for me? – he didn't have to approach me when he recognized me. He could have just slipped out of the gala and I would never have known he was there. He deliberately sought me out…shit, he must have waited until I was alone on that balcony. Fuck! Did he hear my speech? He must have. Was he watching me after that? How long after my speech did I finally make it to the balc… Paranoia; like I said. This was just an unfortunate and unpleasant coincidence. I need to calm down; a glass of wine and a nice, hot bath should do the trick. _'Now we're talking; and some Jersey caramels, too.'_

Relief washes through me when the elevator finally opens to my floor. Home at last…safe. I'm still fishing for my keys when a nearby door opens to reveal my neighbor. '_Hunky neighbor,' _my subconscious sighs, the memory of that ghost from my past already fading.

"Annie?"

"No; it's Ana. What's up, _Henny_?" I say, chuckling, despite the anxiety and creeping paranoia.

He rolls his eyes. He hates being called after somecognac brand called_, Hennessey, _as he likes to call it. "Are you home early? How was the party?" he says, as he approaches me.

"Long and tiring," I grumble. Then a ghost decided to show up without any warning.

Frowning in concern – he really is very sweet – Henry asks, "You didn't have _any_ fun?"

"It was okay… a lot of talking and handshaking; that sort of thing. Fun, but kind of tiring," I say. And I ran from the mezzanine floor to the ground floor in five inch heels when I saw the ghost.

"Oh, okay… yeah… so, I was sort of waiting up for you…" he stammers. Supermodels stammer?

"Why? Miss me already?" I tease, and he blushes. Two red-faced men in one night? Jeez.

"Maybe a bit…I thought about you a lot while I was away, too."

"O-okay… what did you eat tonight? Were there weird-looking mushrooms in your curry or something?" I ask. Frankly, I have no answer to my hunky neighbor confessing that he spends any time at all thinking about me…wait, what sort of thoughts? What the hell is going on?

"I had a burger and chips, actually." With that billboard-worthy smile, he adds, "I can eat shit like that between gigs." Then back to nervous, he bites his bottom lip for a moment before saying, "I know you like to run on the weekends and I was wondering, if… you know…. if I can run with you and err… maybe grab a bite after?" My subconscious raises her eyebrows; pie eyed, and – the most shocking thing of all out of a heart-attack inducing evening – completely and utterly silent.

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated._

Many thanks to Contrite Shadows for the honest critique and for the suggestions.


	16. The Aftermath

**Missy's Notes: **Thank you for all the reviews, follows, favorites, PM's and most of all, for your patience. I would like to apologize for making you guys wait. Work has been crazy the past week and I've had this huge funk blocking anything that has to do with writing inside my (cluttered) head. The sequel… well it's still a mess, I decided to throw and burn it; basically I'm starting all over again. For those looking for the missylovestoread Facebook account, I'm sorry to say that I've decided to deactivate it, for now (I blame the ginormous funk). I'll consider activating it again when I get rid of this funk; in the meantime, I've set up a pinterest page dedicated for all my fan fiction stories. Look up and follow _missylovestoread fanfiction_ in Pinterest when you get a chance. Anyway, enough of the rant, the wait is over; I do hope you like this one (If not; please be gentle). Please forgive my errors and happy reading!

E L James owns this amazing trilogy

**Chapter 16: The Aftermath**

_"Panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive." ~William S. Burroughs, Ghost of Chance_

"Is this seat taken?" I look up to see the smoldering gray eyes of Christian Grey. I gulp. What the hell is he doing here? I'm at Le Panier, one of my favorite bistros close to Seattle Independent Publishing, where I've been steadily working as an assistant for almost a month now. Working for a publishing house is my dream job and I'm so happy they picked me.

"Well…?" I hear him say, his gray eyes, eyeing me shrewdly; like he did the last time we spoke.

"Uhm… no," I mumble, blushing when he smiles. God, he's just so hot. _Quit blushing like a teenager, Steele!_

"Good. May I sit with you?" He asks, tilting his head on the side, his hand already holding the chair in front of me.

"Uhm… yeah…" I blush even more. Damn it, why does he have such an effect on me? He smiles that smile. That enigmatic, sexy smile as he gracefully takes the seat in front of me, placing his tray in front of mine. Christian Grey is sitting in front of me.

"So, Anastasia, we meet again; this time under different circumstances. What brings you back to Seattle?" he asks, breaking my reverie. I look up and there they are… again… those damnable gray eyes, alight with something I can't read. _'He probably thinks your lame,'_ my subconscious drones. Ugh, how I hate her.

"Mr. Grey, I… err… work here, actually. Well, not here; in the area, I mean," I stammer lamely, feeling myself flush once again. Jeez. _'Yeah, it's pathetic,'_ my subconscious sneers.

"Oh; well then, I believe congratulations and a welcome to Seattle is in order," he says, smiling and thankfully ignoring my word farting.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey."

"You're very welcome, Anastasia," he says with a smile that could trump even the best chocolate. Damn. I gulp and blink. He smiles and tilts his head to the side.

I look down, not only because I am blushing, again. Blushing profusely, as a matter of fact, but also; I don't know what to say anymore. Hell, I don't even know why _the_ Christian Grey is sitting with me! _'You should print that on a shirt and sell it, Steele,'_ my subconscious sneers, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Stop looking down and please stop biting your lip," he says, eyeing me intently. "Tell me, Anastasia, how do you like Seattle?"

I look up and wish I hadn't. Jeez, those gray eyes could melt anything. I swallow and blink a few times, trying to recover from the effects of his stare. "Seattle is great, thank you. I've only been here for about a month, but it feels like home already. And err… Mr. Grey, please call me Ana."

"That's good to know. By the way, I'm rather fond of your name, Anastasia," he smiles. Damn, that smile, panty busting. I blush. _'Jeez, look at you Steele! He's just a guy, okay – a hot guy, but that's no reason for the freaking blushing every second!'_ my subconscious says, admonishingly. "Where do you live, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Err… I share an apartment with my friend, Kate, if you remember, she's the one who was supposed to interview you, she was also our class valedictorian… uhm, anyway, we live in the Pike Market District," again, I splutter, word farting on all cylinders, as I try to look him in the eye. Why does he have such an effect on me?

"I remember Ms. Kavanagh," he smiles. "Pike Market… that's close to where I live. Good to know." He adds, smiling his secret smile that tells me – maybe I've gone crazy – he's hiding something.

I just nod and smile, glancing at the clock that tells me that my lunch hour is almost up. I don't know whether or not I should be happy or relieved or sad to be leaving the hot guy in front of me. "Uhm… I… ah… I need to get back to work," I stammer, again, in an overly dramatic fashion. _Jeez._

"Of course, thank you for letting me share your table, Ms. Steele," he says, extending his hand. Before its Anastasia, now I'm Ms. Steele, jeez, what's up with the formality?

"Mr. Grey, it's my pleasure, sir. Have a good afternoon," I reply, taking his hand, gasping a bit, at the contact.

"Ms. Steele, are you still using the same mobile number you used when you called me about the photo shoot?" he says, suddenly, just as I am about to let go of his hand.

"Err, yes, sir," I say, flustered.

He narrows his gaze and takes a sharp breath for a moment before recovering as he replies, "Good; would you mind if I… give you a call?"

I'm stunned. I gape at him for a moment unable to see why he would call me but, instead of asking why, I merely nod and he gives me a satisfied and triumphant smile, as he says, "Good. I'll see you around, Anastasia."

**~oOo~**

I stare mindlessly at whatever it is in front of me. I'm in my kitchen, trying to make tea in the wee hours of the morning, in an effort to make myself relax and sleep rather than replaying that chapter of my life that I would rather not think or talk about. How stupid, naïve girl I was; it was an utterly dark chapter of my life. The chapter where I let someone treat me as… as a lapdog or a rag doll, depending on one's view point. It's the chapter in my life that I wish had never happened, the part where I wish I had known better and made the right choice. The part where I wish I was never attracted to or mesmerized by… him. Christian Grey. '_Yeah, yeah, the dog days are over so snap out of it, Steele!' _My subconscious barks, waving her perfectly manicured hands in an effort to make me stop my… reminiscing.

My life changed the moment I met the enigmatic CEO, Christian Grey. I didn't know it at first, all I knew was that there was something… rather fascinating about him. Anyway, it started when I had to interview him for my best friend, which was, up to this point, something I'd rather forget. I met him again, a few days after that when he walked into Clayton's, bought a few items and he ended up giving me his card, in case Kate wanted arrange a photo-shoot. I thought nothing of it; to me, it was nothing but a mere coincidence. However, getting invited by the same hot specimen of a man for coffee after the photo-shoot was something… different. For one, I never liked coffee (until I moved to London and met Alex Core), and second, he is Christian Grey, need I say more? Anyway, nothing momentous happened, we just talked – well he asked the questions, I muttered my answers, accompanied by my usual blushing. I remember feeling very disappointed when he walked me back to the hotel and bid his goodbye. I was sure he was going to kiss me, but oh well, _a girl can dream._ He remained in my mind and even occasionally, starred in my dreams, but I never really had the guts to call or even send him a message. He was, after all, way out of my league. _The _Christian Grey will never go out with a Plain Jane, clumsy and not to mention bashful, girl like me. I fought hard to get him and those gray eyes out of my mind and I did, as I concentrated on my finals, graduation, job hunting and the new life Kate and I had planned in Seattle. I thought I got my last glimpse of him on graduation day, where he conferred degrees and where I momentarily forgot the fact that I was trying to get him, and that enigmatic smile, out of my cluttered mind, after he handed me my diploma. That was supposed to be it: the last time I'd see him. Apparently, I was wrong.

Kate and I moved to Seattle, got settled and eventually started working and adjusting to the 'real-world'. Kate worked at the Tribune, while I found my job as an editor's assistant at SIP. It's supposed to be a day like any other; plain and ordinary. I get to work, take my usual hour-long break, where I grab something at the bistro across the street, go back and work a few more hours, and then go home. Really simple and frankly, typical, but then Christian Grey appears out of nowhere. Just like he did at the Clayton's. He flashes his enigmatic smile, joins me at my table, chats with me, and the next thing I know, he asks if I have the same number and then sends me a message, a few minutes later, asking if I made it to my office safely. It was the beginning. The beginning of everything: the day my life began to change. I am at a loss as to whether or not I should accept what happened, what my choices were, because six months after that, I found myself alone and on the kitchen floor of the apartment I shared with Kate, clutching my chest, sobbing my heart out and hoping that if I cried enough, the pain would subside. The pain. One can never forget that... feeling. It's not just the rejection; the heartbreak from that rejection or even, the feeling of emptiness. It's everything. I'd give anything to know what Sara has to say, but knowing her; she would simply recite or come up with a proverb about learning from the past. I roll my eyes. Yeah, I suppose I wouldn't be here if it weren't for… him. It's not an excuse to talk to the man who… hurt me though. There's nothing to talk about and frankly, no reason to see him. Though I am curious about something: _how the hell did he find me?_

Chamomile tea is most known for its relaxation and soothing properties. It is often taken before bed to promote sleep. Unfortunately for me, I've had one hell of a night and even the many flutes of champagne I consumed at the gala, along with the half bottle of Bordeaux, I reserve strictly for me-time, isn't helping me relax or sleep. I've tossed and turned, unable to keep myself from thinking about how my night turned out: normal, at first. Mostly because of my neighbor for expertly taking away the edgy feeling I had prior to the event, by simply talking to me. By the time Alex and I entered the reception ball, my night changed from normal to a mixture of anxiety and awkwardness. I felt completely out-of-place. It was positively nerve-wrecking. I don't remember ever meeting and talking to so many people, let alone feeling so intimidated, so nervous that I could puke, all at the same time. I expected my night to progress, particularly after my speech, to change back to normal and calm. Instead, it morphed into something close to a nightmare, when someone I'd rather not see or even talk to ever again, came to haunt me like a ghost. Yes, it all comes down to one thing: seeing him appearing out of nowhere. Christian Grey.

I'm snapped back to reality with both my phone and the pot of water ringing shrilly, simultaneously. The water that I'd been boiling is finally ready for my tea, while my phone is telling me that hopefully I'm going to get some answers or hear the voice of one of my friends to reassure me that everything is okay. In an instant, I turn the burner off, let the water cool a bit and check my phone to see that my best friend has received my voice message and is returning my call. Thank God.

"Hey, Kate, sorry I interrupted you. Did you get my message?"

"Steele, you okay?" Kate greets boisterously. "Don't worry about me, I just got home. Yes, I got your voicemail; what's up? You sounded a little shaken up or something."

"He is here, or was… here," I say, point blank, stammering the words like I always do. '_Like an idiot, Steele! Keep it together!' _My subconscious says, impatiently. I take a deep breath and try again, "Sorry, Kate, let me rephrase that. Christian Grey is here, in London. I saw him; he approached me."

"Shit!" I hear Kate gasp, no doubt surprised by what I just said.

_Yeah. Shit. _I thought, mirroring her reaction. I suppose it's the perfect word. Would've been the perfect reaction, rather than freezing in action and falling into that stupid _sub-mode._ Maybe it's the fact that it's all I could think about since the… encounter. Maybe it's the paranoia that came with the sight of him, appearing out of nowhere, like he did at Clayton's and the Bistro. Maybe it's the disbelief of seeing him after two years, since… I gulp. _'Since he kicked you out,' _my subconscious chides viciously, in serious thought. Maybe it's because his sudden appearance caught me off guard, to the point where my mind acted instantaneously at just the sound of his voice. The automatic reaction angered me immensely; for if there is something that I've learned from that chapter in my life, it would be that I hate myself for sinking that low. For loving someone who only saw me as a fucking toy; a rag doll to play with, discarded when I served my purpose.

"Steele? Hello? Do you hear me? Are you still there?" I hear my best friend say frantically, effectively snapping me back from my reverie.

"Sorry, I'm here."

"Oh okay, I thought I lost you. Anyway, so moneybags was there? Did I hear you right?"

"Yes, he was at the gala. For some reason, he followed me into the hotel courtyard. We were alone and he tried to talk to me."

"What? That _motherfucking _moneybag asshole! I knew it!" Kate rants, for the briefest second; I picture my best friend, angry as a bull. But her last statement caught my attention.

"Kate, what do you mean when you said, _you knew it_?"

"Well that's I've been trying to tell you, Steele, but you said and I quote, _you don't care and you don't want to—"_

"I know what I said, Kate, I just… well, I didn't expect any of this shit… I didn't expect him to show up. It caught me off guard," I say truthfully. All those times that Kate tried to tell me about him and I repeatedly dismissed her, thinking that it was just random news about him, that maybe he'd found a new toy. Eventually, I stopped caring all together. After all, moving on from someone meant not caring or not thinking about them, right? I sigh. "Kate, please, tell me everything."

* * *

**8:35 AM – Albert Court, West Block**

Thank fuck for tinted mirrors. I watch from the window, like a pervert, waiting for that someone to walk out of the building. I used to do this every morning back in Seattle, though rather than sitting in my car, I would stand in front of the building, mostly in the morning, and yes, you fucking guessed it: wait. I couldn't bear the thought of her not responding or shooting me down, just like the other night. The fucking night that ended up in total clusterfuck. I expected to see her, which I did. She looked phenomenal, fucking mouthwatering. My cock was throbbing for hours just from the sight of her. I expected to talk to her alone, and I did, for a few fucking moments, everything else after that is fucking disappointment, on so many fucking levels.

I expected Anastasia to act the way she always acted when I was around. I expected her to be the submissive I trained her to be and she was - for a few moments. After hearing my voice, she acted like a submissive. She acted instinctively, she stood frozen in position, not looking at me, her dominant, and waiting for my command. But what came after I gave her a simple, unobtrusive command is anyone's guess. She fucking started acting the exact opposite of submissive. It's like she woke up from something or was doused with cold water. She fucking started defying me. She defied me at every turn, on every word I tried to say, not even letting me finish. Hell, she didn't even give me time to think of anything! And the worst part of it all is that she fucking ran away from me, again. Even worse, is that I was too fucking stunned to react, to reach out and demand that she stay. I did nothing but watch her retreating figure, _like she always did, in my dreams_ and by the time I snapped out of the shock, she was already in the lobby climbing into a cab.

I could have followed her easily. I could've gone straight to her apartment, but her words stopped me from even trying. Her words, _"No, we don't. You and I have nothing to talk about," _and_ "don't you dare 'Anastasia,' me! Don't you dare use that tone and act as if you own me, Grey! You forfeited that right long ago,"_echoing in my fucked up head, over and over. The look in those clear blue eyes, the way they glared at me. Her stance, determined and unwavering to the point that I questioned whether or not I was looking at, standing in front of the woman I've spent years looking for; the woman whose eyes haunt me in my sleep. The same girl who's given me this gaping hole, that's been eating me from the inside.

_Well you deserved it, Grey._

My fucked-up mind recognizes the fact that Anastasia has changed. She may no longer be a submissive; my submissive. Hell, if anything, I'm pretty fucking positive that she despises what she did in the past. That she hated the fucked-up world I introduced to her. She's right when she said that she is no longer mine; I know it but I refuse to acknowledge it. I refuse to let her go. Hell, I've looked for her for years, I'm not about to let last night's disastrous encounter stop me from bringing her back to me. The other fucked-up half, knows that I should go and leave her be. That I should just let this woman blossom, because I find her confidence to be both fascinating and challenging. I want her to succeed in her career, because seeing her in her element is both enthralling and arousing, the graceful way she interacted with people in that gala… simply arousing. Lastly, I should want her to live a quiet life, meet someone and be happy. But I'm a selfish fucker; I want her all by myself. I want her back in Seattle, with me. Which is why I'm here; a perverted stalker waiting for my girl to come out from her apartment, see if I can get another shot, another try... another chance to talk, make her see sense and convince her to come back to Seattle.

"Sir… I think we have a visual" Taylor says, breaking my fucked up reverie.

I look to see… her. Not walking out of the main entrance, but running – no jogging, literally towards the entrance. She's wearing black fitted running pants, a dark gray tank top and black running shoes, with her hair pulled up in a tight bun. I want to literally kick myself and my cock for twitching at the mere sight of her. _Perverted fucker._ She stops in front of the building, stretching and massaging her muscles. Hmmm seems like Ms. Steele is now an avid runner. Good to know, we can run together, in Seattle, every morning for the rest of our life. _What the hell? Where did that come from? _I ignore my wayward thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand: the second opportunity to talk to her, while she's still outside. Fuck it, I've had enough of the waiting, it's time to continue the talk. I reach for the door handle, excited and elated at the very thought of approaching her; closing the distance between us. But my momentary joy is eclipsed when a tall man follows behind her, also wearing running clothes. Everything freezes when the fucker reaches out and wipes something out of her forehead. And I feel like everything starts crashing down when she looks up at the fucker, surprise evident in those eyes, blushes and eventually settles into a polite smile at the fucker. Here I sit, frozen into position, blankly staring at what's happening in front of me: two people who just got back from a morning run, talking casually. Both smiling; she is smiling that timid, yet relaxed smile and while I can't see his reaction, I'm pretty positive that the man, whoever he is, is completely dazzled by her; obviously he likes what he's seeing. The man – no, the fucker – is staring at what's mine. I begin to see red. Red haze. Red everything. Before I can do something, they both turn towards the building entrance with his hand, holding the small of her back. _Fuck!_

Who the fuck is this fucker and what is he doing with my Ana? She. Is. Mine. "Let's get the fuck out of here," I say, snarling the first words that come to my mind, aware that I blew the opportunity to talk to her for the second time, with this one being worse than the first one, much, much worse.

* * *

**Subject: Unfinished business**

From: Christian Grey

Sent: Sat, September 14, 2014, 9:18 AM

To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

It is imperative that we speak as soon as possible. I want to talk to you simply because I plan to fly back home, the day after tomorrow and I _want_ you to return with me. I am available to meet at any time. I have a car waiting for you in front of your apartment building. The driver will meet you as soon as you step out of the building.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings

I'm standing in the foyer of my loft, starring at my Blackberry, stunned with what I'm seeing. Everything seems to have stopped the moment I saw the email. His email. And like the night before, I'm shocked beyond anything. Everything changes the moment I hear his name or anything that has to do with him comes into picture. All I can think is that, _this can't be happening_. Sure, he popped out of nowhere wanting to speak to me last night, again a shocking encounter that I resolved on treating it as if I had a disturbing dream, borderline nightmare. But this… email is… _'A strike two,'_ my subconscious says, clucking in anger and disbelief. This is his way of exerting his control: trying to remind me of who I was back in Seattle. The girl he introduced to the dark world he called his lifestyle. He still thinks of me as nothing but a fucking submissive, his toy and apparently, he's not done playing with me.

Many things cross my mind; questions – a lot of questions. Then the feeling of overwhelming panic, anxiety mixed with anger and disbelief. Though Kate had told me everything she knows when we spoke earlier, effectively alleviating the panic and anxiety I moved from a DEFCON 1 to a 4, yet I still can't help but wonder. How and Why? How did he found me and why? What for? _'For obvious reasons, Steele,'_ my subconscious says, hissing with anger and I agree with her.

Once again, I read the contents of the email and I imagine him saying the words in his dominant voice; the cold, distant, demanding and scary, but utterly seducing voice of the dominant that always made me whimper. But that was years ago; times have changed, and I don't think he realizes that. I don't think he remembers voiding that stupid contract and throwing me out of his ivory tower. I don't think he gets the fact that I left everything in Seattle because of what he did to me. Because he hurt me, broke me in so many ways. _'Enough jibber-jabber, Steele, focus on the questions!'_ My subconscious says, urging me to focus, as if she already knows the answer and can't wait for me to figure it out. There is something rather peculiar about the way he always pops up out of thin air, appearing when I least expect it wanting me to… what? _Think Ana!_ I do; walking mindlessly until I reach the living room and sit on the plush couch and think. Recalling my time with him, which of course brings more red haze, but I ignore it, urging myself to focus as I know I'm very close to getting my answer, it's under nose and I'm staring right back at it.

_The past always helps one to figure out what not to do next, _the hag once told me and so I start over, painfully recalling in clear detail anything that has to do with Christian Grey. From how we met to how he callously dumped me, until I found it... the connection. Clayton's in Portland, Le Panier in Seattle and now at Claridge's – three places where he managed to appear out of nowhere, least expected and three places and encounters where he caught me completely off my guard. Each encounter where he essentially controlled the situation, _'no doubt taking advantage of your startled self!'_ my subconscious hisses. And then another thought; I always wondered how he managed to know my whereabouts, how he always finds me, alone most of the time, and when I'm with friends, who my companions were and at one point, him even punishing me when he sees me, doing something he didn't like, such as hanging out with friends, Ethan, Jose and Kate, in a crowded bar, Jose leaning in too close. And then other instances, like how he knew where to pick me up without even asking for my address, how he magically walked into the SIP building to meet with exec— _Unbelievable._ Maybe it's the paranoia but my instinct is screaming the fact that he was watching me all those times… Shit!

Oh my fucking God. Numbly, I stare at the email, again. Disbelief, anger and overpowering fear overwhelm me as my mind races and my scalp prickles at the realization. If my sense is right, there's more coming and based on what Kate had already told me, he's been looking and had only magically found my whereabouts very recently. And knowing him, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. My subconscious narrows her eyes and mutters, _'prepare to be disappointed, Grey.'_ Sara's training instinctively kicks into gear and immediately I know that I have to do something. Tossing the Blackberry aside, I turn towards the landline and dial Alex's number to which he answers at the first ring.

"Good morning, Cinderella!"

"Alex, good morning," I say distractedly.

"Okay, you have that tone that tells me that something's wrong, what is it Ana?" He says, immediately concern.

"Yeah, I want to hire security and I want to talk to an IT expert, I want to beef up our IT. Do we know anyone that can possibly help us?"

"I'm going to try to remain calm even though that tone should be enough to scare me out my wits, Ana, having said that, we do know enough people that could help us. How soon do want this done?"

"It's a DEAFCON 1, Alex; I want to talk to someone first thing Monday morning."

* * *

**Sunday, 7:45 PM – Presidential Suite, Claridge's**

"I'm sorry, Mister, I can't let you into Ms. Ana's loft unless she gives me her permission and I already told you, Ms. Ana isn't in her loft at the moment." The fucker says, irritably. She made me fucking wait for a day and ignored the email I sent to her. I've had enough. She's left me no choice but to barge in and demand that I speak to her. Yet it's impossible with this fucker blocking my path towards the elevators that would lead me to the fourth floor, into her apartment. You've lost it, Grey.

I shove my hand into my hair in utter frustration. I can't make a scene as the fucker already threatened to call the police the first time I shouted at him. "Fine, I'll just call her."

First she ran, second she ignores my email. Fuck! Who is this woman and what has she done to my Ana? _She grew up, Grey_. Frustrated, I leave the building, snarling at anyone and anything in sight, my phone already dialing one of the two numbers I have on file. No fucking answer, she let it go to voice mail. Frustrated, I take a deep steadying breath, my fucked up mind thinking that at least the security fucker is telling the truth, maybe she isn't home. With another breath, I dial the other number, this time confident that she will pick up, as the phone I'm using is not familiar. Wrong. The phone rings eight times until I hear her voice:

_You reached the voice mail of Anastasia Steele, President of Norwood House. Please leave your name, contact number and a brief message and I will get back to you as soon as I can. _

I take a deep breathe, aware that I'm barely able to control the anger flaring at the mere thought of her studiously ignoring my every attempt to reach out to her and say:

_"Anastasia, need I remind you about managing my expectations? You and I know that I am not a patient man. I expect that you, at the very least, will have the decency to reply to one of my attempts to speak to you in person, otherwise… just call me."_

**~oOo~**

Waiting has never been my forte. Ever. Waiting makes my palms twitchy, I pace a lot and in this case, bad tempered. I'm here in my suite, pacing and recalling my attempt to visit her in her apartment that was thwarted by the fucking building security. I fucking feel like a fish in a fucking fish tank, pacing around the fucking room waiting for something, a call, a buzz or even Taylor, coming in to announce that the very person, the very reason why I dropped everything in Seattle, take my fucking jet to London, is here to see me. But nothing; nothing but fucking crickets. Anastasia has defied me at every turn, ignoring all my civil attempts to talk to her.

_You fucking deserve this, Grey. _And it true, she deserves to hate me, after all I've done to her but at least she could give me the decency of telling me to fuck off, but no, she chose to keep her silence and it's driving me crazy. I'm flying back to Seattle in a few hours and I still haven't heard from her. I sent another email this morning, before deciding to go back to her apartment building. I also left another voice message on both her mobile and landline, after security pushed me out of the building; still nothing. No word. I realize that she's doing it on purpose, I just know it. It's in response to all the trouble, the pain I've inflicted on her. The least I can do is to let her be, leave London and go back to Seattle without her. Part of me knows that she must have moved on, started living her life, meeting new fuckers. Fuckers who are not as fucked up as I am, fuckers who can love her – something I'm not capable of doing. Fuckers who… fuckers who could… fuck her. no. no. no! No one touches what's mine. She. Is. Mine.

Christ! What the fuck is happening to me? She leaves me with no choice, than to visit her. The last option is to force my way into her apartment, force her to talk to me. But then, by some miracle, my phone buzzes, alerting me that that I have a new email. I smile as I see her name, plastered on the screen. I hurriedly open the email, ignoring the subject as start to read.

**RE: Your email & voice messages**

From: Anastasia Steele

Sent: Sat, September 14, 2014, 9:48 PM

To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey –

There's nothing left to say. Therefore, I see no reason why we should talk, as I'm quite certain that you said it all when you voided the contract. The best thing you did was voiding that contract. Thanks to you, I realized that I belong to no one, but myself.

Let me reiterate: _I am no longer yours or anyone's property_. You'll do well to remember that. Please refrain from further contact, leave London and let me be.

Anastasia Steele

President, Norwood Publishing House

* * *

**GreytoSteele, thanks for everything!**


	17. Rebound

**Missy's notes: **Thank you for your continued support on this story; your reviews, follows, favorite and PM's never fail to make my day. Sorry again for the delay, i have excuse but work and real life. Anyways, we are entering the final chapters on this story (I have about 4 or 5 including this) and I will start fast forwarding a lot of things and focus on how Ana started skyrocketing to her success and what happened to our favorite lovebirds, particularly our beloved megalomaniac, after the 'London incident.' I am only touching bits of Ana and CG's romantic and kinky lives after London as i find it extremely hard to write. **FAIR WARNING & SPOILER ALERT: **this chapter maybe a wee bit hard to read. If you like the angst and you've been following this story from the very beginning, then my friends, you know what to expect and that I do hope you like it (even though it's a tough read). However, if you are expecting fluff, then I'm afraid this isn't the right story for ya. I think it's best to wait for my other story to update. I promise, the sequel full of fluff, I just have to finish writing it :-). If you insist on reading – you have been warned – ergo, I do hope you like it. Please forgive my errors. Happy reading!

**E L James owns this amazing trilogy**

**Chapter 17: Rebound**

_"Moving on is easy. It's staying moved-on that's trickier." ~Katerina Stoykova Klemer_

**London, November 2015 (a little over a year later…).**

"You can't ask me to give up my work and everything I've worked for and just follow you wherever you go like a groupie, Henry. That's not me; that's not who I am, and you and I both know it," I tell Henry for the umpteenth time. We've been arguing about the whole 'living situation' ever since he got the call that officially opened the doors to his acting career. He is set to play the lead role in a much anticipated action hero movie and he is beyond excited to start shooting, though getting the dream role came with a price: he will need to move to Los Angeles, for good, according to his agent.

"So resign, put Alex in to replace you. Easy, I don't see why this is so hard for you. You work around the clock, you're on the phone all the time and you're always stressed. I'm pretty sure you'll find a much better, less stressful job in Los Angeles, Ana. Besides, you'll be closer to your home, your parents and friends," he replies, yet again.

"You think it's that easy? _Really_? I just can't leave everything here and run of to Hollywood so you can follow your dream, Henry. I have a job; as stressful and far less-glamorous job as it seems to you, to me, well… I happen to enjoy what I do and for the record, it's not a simple assistant position, so no; it's _not _that easy and this _shit_, is not all about you, Henry," I respond, unable to control my emotions.

"You can't or you won't?"

_Focus, Steele!_

"Ready?" Alex asks, snapping me back from my daydream, as we arrive in front of the Brown building, just in time for our mid-afternoon meeting. I barely listened to Alex's babble on the way. All I could think about is the last conversation with my… with Henry.

"Ana, you okay?" Alex prods when I didn't respond.

"Yes, I am," is all I can say, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand instead of replaying the events of that fateful night. On the outside, the Brown house is a timeless, seventeen story building that sits majestically in in between the historic Westminster and the once artsy Chelsea neighborhoods which represents its art and grandeur. The building is a great architectural structure that to me embodies the old world with its timeless elegance and power. The Brown group has owned and occupied this building for decades. The inside of the building is different; it represents the new world and technology with modern furnishings and upgrades. It's like stepping out of the old world and stepping right to the modern. The drastic change feels disconcerting

"The hag would be very proud, as I am, Ana. You're doing so well, who wouldn't be proud of you?" Alex says, reassuringly. I look up to meet his gaze. He looks like a proud parent, watching his child achieve something momentous. _'I guess it is,' _my subconscious mutters, sadly; she's still affected by the conversation with Henry. I'm not sure if I'd be thankful he hasn't picked-up on my mood, yet.

"Thanks Alex," I say, offering him a timid smile, which I hope is enough to cover my really cluttered head.

"Don't bother, my dear, I should thank you. Never in a million years have I thought we'd make it this far," he says, looking around as we walk through the granite lobby and towards the elevators.

"Not yet," I say, as we board the elevator leading to the top floor, where our meeting with the board and executives is scheduled. "We have to break the news and then we'll have to wait for four more weeks."

"True."

"And we'll have lots of firing to do. I'm not looking forward to that," I say truthfully. I know that it is part of the job, but having been on the chopping block once myself, makes me feel for the people who will ultimately lose their job soon.

"It's necessary, my dear," Alex responds with a shrug.

"I know."

"Okay; at first, I thought you're thinking about Sara, apparently, I'm wrong. Then I thought, maybe its this deal, wrong again, because the deal is done and we are just here to break the news. You're not anxious about this, you're anxious about something else," Alex says, correctly reading the reason behind my obvious anxiety, and for once he is right. In the four years that I've worked in NPH, I've only ever been anxious a couple of times and most of it came when I was first starting out. This isn't because I'm over confident or egotistical, but more because Sara has taught me that business or any transaction is like a game; it's okay to take it seriously, but not too seriously. It is, after all, just a game. _'I'll say; imagine an over thinker like you, mastering that shit,' _my subconscious sneers, and as much as I want to ignore her, she has a point. It is one of the most baffling lessons the hag taught to me and I've barely got a handle on it. So far, I've learned to contain myself from over-thinking things and always focus on what I think the hag would do. There are days when I succeed, and there are days where I think I'm gonna go berserk. I would consider today a success, simply because I'm over-thinking about something else.

"Ana, what is it?" Alex prods, yet again, this time with a hint of impatience.

"Uhm yeah… you got me," is all I can say.

"Okay. If it's not work related, then it has to do with, Henry," He concludes. I honestly don't know how he got to that conclusion. _'That's 'coz your very easy to read, Steele,'_ my subconscious mutters, rolling her eyes as she examines her newly polished nails. God I hate her. My relationship with Henry began the night I agreed to go on a morning run with him, more than a year ago. Weekend morning runs became our routine after that, at least whenever he's around. We added brunch shortly after that, where we would talk – well, he would talk, I would listen, laugh and occasionally answer or volunteer information's of my own, like my travels in France and Italy and my plans to visit when I get a chance. I did, and he came with me a few months after that. Next things I know, the three days in the Italian coast of Amalfi, made the relationship grow into something truly unexpected. Needless to say, one thing led to another, after enjoying the breathtaking views and the many Vermentino and Chianti wines we drank, I came back to London with the gorgeous guy who started calling me,_ luv,_ Much to my friend, Rupert Kent's, amusement. Italy soon became the only thing we have in common; the fascination of the Italian countryside, the food and the architecture is something that we both enjoy so much. It soon became apparent that everything has to do, have to evolve around, Henry. It's all about him and when it isn't, its boring.

"I don't want to talk about it, and no, it's not about me working well into the wee hours," I barely whisper. There are only a few people who have ever been able to read me like a book: Kate, because she's my best friend; Sara, because she could always see right through me, even from the very beginning; my mother, because she's my mom; and now there's Alex, because I spend a lot of time with him at work and as a friend; and he's also come to read my mental quirks. According to him, I usually can't stop talking about a certain project when I'm anxious about work. But when it's something personal however, it's usually the other way around as I tend to keep it to myself. Yeah, he hit the bulls-eye on that.

"Alright, let's get on with this meeting before talking about dear Henry," Alex says, a bit too cheerfully, just as the elevator halts and announces that we've reached the top of the building, with an audible _ding._

"Lets," I respond dryly, taking his hand as he leads me towards the our destination.

**~oOo~**

"Working with Brown house is the best decision you ever made for your little house, Ms. Steele, Alex," Albert Darlington exclaims, excitement emanating throughout him and his team. Mr. Darlington is the Senior Vice President of the acquisitions department of Brown House, the biggest publishing company in the UK and Europe. He is also the head of the team responsible for relentlessly nagging Sara to sell Norwood Publishing House to them, which of course didn't sit well with the hag as she had other plans; plans that only included… passing the house to me. I can imagine Mr. Darlington and the other executives at Brown House surprise when they all found out that a young girl was taking over Sara Norwood's legacy instead of her estate Attorney breaking up her assets and selling them to the highest bidder, but nevertheless, that didn't stop them from continuing their pursuit of trying to buy out Sara's lone legacy. They've tried every means to open the doors to negotiations with Alex or me in order to work out some deal to get on-board and sell to them. They tried to exploit my youth and inexperience, and when they realized it didn't work, they turned to Alex, my number two, thinking that I might listen to his advice, because I'm too young, naïve and inexperienced in business; especially mergers and acquisitions. How wrong they are.

"That would be the exact opposite, gentlemen," I say, impatiently, my crappy mood getting ahead of me or maybe I'm just done looking at their smug, arrogant faces. _'Both,'_ my subconscious agrees, her lips twitching, as tries unsuccessfully to hide her mirth. "Let me be clear, the Brown group, Mr. Martin Brown Sr., in particular, has made an excellent decision by agreeing to… _collaborate_ with the Norwood Publishing House," I clarify, ignoring the many eyebrows rising and the eyes popping out around me.

While they were busy trying to get the little known publishing house in London and busying themselves with belittling my inexperience and trying to bully Alex into talking 'sense' into this _silly American girl_, I busied myself and my team of four – me, Alex, Frank, who officially joined last year as my head of IT and security, and finally, Rupert, who helps as a consultant – into doing a lot of _productive things_, to say the least. The productive things include: a years' worth of nonstop work, long work hours invested into signing authors, book deals and new projects; off shore investments and acquisitions in the Swiss and Parisian publishing markets, coupled by best sellers, a handful of movie franchise deals, and a disgruntled elder Brown matriarch, who isn't happy with his son, Brown Jr.'s partying and business skills that rendered the once dominant publishing house across Europe into the brink of extinction, have all led to this... momentous meeting. A meeting with the management of the company that took over the first Norwood publishing house; a chance to tell senior executives like Albert Darlington, that he is very wrong in thinking I'll just walk into their lair that easy. Most importantly, the chance to restore the Norwood family, my mentor, Sara's legacy particularly, by taking the company that was once taken away, back for her.

"I don't understand what you're saying, Ms. Steele, what in the bloody hell do you mean by collaborating? You think the Brown house will collaborate with a small company like yours? And why is she talking to my bloody father?" Martin Brown Jr. exclaims, finally finding his voice as if he'd been slapped or forced into waking up from a night of partying. He glares at his executives, who all look dumbfounded and then to my team, and me which includes Alex and my head of security, Frank. I took a deep steadying breath to control my emotions; on one hand, it's nice to hear someone say what they really think of the NPH brand, it's insulting, but then again, Sara always said: it's better to be the David, instead of the Goliath.

Before I can respond, Alex steps in and explains for me to everyone. "Mr. Brown, what your father failed to tell you when he retired and let you take over this company is that you only own a small stake in the company. I believe it's just a mere .85% and that despite your position as Chairman and CEO, ultimately, it's just a title. You don't have the controlling interest in this company; your father, Mr. Brown Sr., does or rather, did, since Ms. Steele now owns the controlling interest. As of last night, your father sold all his and your late mothers' stocks to Ms. Steele. Therefore, when Ms. Steele said that Brown group is lucky that we are on board with this negotiation, it means, she is agreeing to take on the burden of restoring all the losses this company has been suffering since you took over. And when she said collaborating… well I don't really know what she meant by that, because owning 99.15% of the controlling interest basically means she is everyone's boss now, including yours," Alex says, as if explaining to a child having a fit before turning to the rest of the executives in the conference room and continuing. "Mind you, Ms. Steele does an excellent job running the company as the President and CEO, and she doesn't see the need to hire individuals to sit of the board and make the decisions for her, nor a team to handle mergers and acquisitions, since she has her own team to do it. Anyway, knowing her personally, I think that this her way of breaking the news gently, politely and shall I say, in a less insulting manner."

**~ooOoo~**

"That went well, right?" Alex says, as he joins me in the now deserted executive office with a celebratory champagne flute in hand, a few hours after the meeting with the management and executives ended with most of them getting axed while the others were told to reapply for their position. I'm standing in my new office, admiring the view. It has a great view of the London night lights a few stories down. I can see the old NPH office, which we will now convert as the production sub-office. If it were up to me, I would stay in my old office – my mentor's office. I'll miss that office. It's where I learned a lot of things; it's where I got closer and closer to Sara. '_Hey, cheer up, Steele! You got her company back! Besides, you still own that building. Keep it the way it is if it makes you happy, or look at it whenever you like, _my subconscious says cheerfully; she is as happy and excited as Alex_._

"Earth to Ana?" Alex says, snapping his fingers repeatedly to break me out of my trance.

"Hey… yeah, err… sorry, what where you saying?"

"I said, that went well, didn't it?" he repeats

"Yeah it went well, though it could've been more graceful, you know, more finesse," I acquiesce, as I sip my champagne.

"True. It would've been better if it weren't for little Brown Jr. throwing a bit of a tantrum," Alex chuckles.

"When I was told he had a bit of a temper, I was expecting a _mad-as-hell_ temper; I didn't expect a fit that could rival that of a four year-old. Anyway, it's over now, he can go party day and night." I say, my gaze going back to the familiar block, a few streets down.

"The hag would be very proud of you, Ana and if she was here, she would tell you to stop moping because there's lots of work to do. We all miss her and we both know that this is for her, so cheer up, my dear, lets finish this round, so we can talk about a few things," Alex says earnestly.

That part, I know is very true, I chuckle, tip my flute in the air, inwardly celebrating with my mentor, finished it in one gulp and say, "okay, we'll celebrate later, lets talk."

"That's my girl, we'll talk about the other less important stuff tomorrow, they can wait and we'll have the whole day. I want to talk to you about one, actually two important things: one has to do with business and the other, well we were already talking about it but we were interrupted."

"Henry is a personal bit, Alex, I really don't want to talk about that," I reason while he vehemently shakes his head.

"No. You're like a daughter to me Ana, I want to know if that bloke is messing with other models," he says, seriously.

"No! It's not like that, Alex, trust me."

"Then what is it? Do tell me."

"You know he's been trying to be a Hollywood actor, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, he got a break; he got a call from Hollywood naming him as a lead actor in a big budget movie. They asked him to move to LA, permanently."

"And…?"

"He wants me to move with him."

"Oh…"

"Yeah… I don't think he understands my work. Well, actually, I never really had a chance to tell him because I'm always busy listening to his adventures and well, he never really asked. I think he finds it boring. So last week, he came back from New York telling me that he got his dream role and he needs to move to LA and he wants me to move with him."

"What did you say?"

"I told him, I can't – well won't."

"What did he say?"

"He got upset, we had an argument; he ended up walking out. We didn't talk for days, then the other night he came to me saying he found an apartment in LA and is scheduled to leave in two days and he really wants me to move with him. When I told him I can't leave my work here, he said, he'll stay if I want him to. He'll turn down the offer and… well… he said something's that didn't sit well with me and I retorted and one thing led to another and now…"

"Well… what? Please tell me you didn't ask him to stay," Alex says, mortified.

"That's the thing! I… explained to him that I didn't want to be the one to ask him; it needs to be his choice. He needs to decide, but it sort of upset him, so he gave me an ultimatum: him or my job, and well..." I say, sighing heavily. My subconscious sighing with me; I swear, she's more heartbroken that I am.

"You said no, so you broke up… oh my dear, Ana, I'm sorry." Alex says, apologetically.

"That's the thing… I'm sad but, for some reason, I… feel relieved."

"Shh… it's okay, my dear… these things happens… everyone could see that he's smitten, while you… well, I'll shut up now," Alex says, a bit mortified.

"I think this is guilt. He's hurt; I hurt his feelings by not even considering his proposal, Alex. I tried to reach out to him, maybe talk, apologize, I don't know but he won't talk to me. He keeps ignoring my calls and its sort of eating at me," I say guiltily.

"Well it's done my dear. You can try to talk to him but the fact is, it's the same thing; you won't move in with him and you don't love him the way he loves you. I say, let him be, if he wants to talk he will call you."

"I'll try. I just… well, we'll see," I say, lamely.

"We can talk about the other things tomorrow if you want, it can wait, I just wanted to give you a heads up," Alex says, reassuringly.

"No, it's fine, fire away. I could use a distraction right now."

"Fine; you asked for it so here goes: One, I love doing this, but after today, I think we can both agree that we both need assistants, especially you. Two, the European Forbes called, they want to do a piece about the emerging power players, and believe it or not, you are one of their targets and they don't even know that you are taking over Brown Publishing House yet so prepare yourself. And three, I'm saying this because you, my dear, earned it and that the hag would want you to do this," Alex says earnestly.

"Do what?"

"I think it's time you add your name beside Sara Norwood's and change the company name to Norwood & Steele."

* * *

**A day before Christmas in Seattle, 2015 (a little over a year later…).**

I wake up with a start. Heart pounding, my body covered in sweat like I've been running for miles and miles, even though I'm just lying in bed, trying to get some sleep. Fucking nightmares, yet again. One would think that by now, I should be used to this shit. Years of childhood nightmares that include the pimp making me act like a fucking human ashtray, the crack whore lying dead, and then last, but definitely not least, the newest and most notable one is that of an anguished girl, staring at me; staring right through me with those piercing blue eyes, reminding me in an accusatory tone of what I did to her and... Shit! What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? Can't a man get a good night sleep just once? Night after night, I get these stupid dreams and night after night, I wake up feeling like a complete shit. I stare at my ceiling, trying to get a hold of myself, trying my best to not sit or do anything but lie down and hopefully get some sleep.

I've done everything I know to get away from these… dreams. In addition to the twelve hour workdays, I jog each morning and work out both with Claude and in the fitness center, and then there's my new submissive, who's been my submissive since... that incident in London. Ashley Winsell, is the most sought after submissive on the west coast. She is also the unlucky sub who's been trying very hard to please her impossible dominant. She tries very hard, obeys my every command; jumps when I tell her to jump; takes every punishment I give her; does everything I want, precisely what and when I want it done. She is the ideal submissive for a dominant like me. I should be content; happy even. And with all the playroom sessions I've done, I should be relaxed. I shouldn't be thinking of anything other than my next acquisition, my next work-out with Claude and planning a scene for my next session in playroom. Most importantly I should not have these nightmares, and above all, I shouldn't be thinking about her.

_Christ!_

Giving up, I get up and find myself sitting in my bed, facing the empty wall; the wall that used to have a lovely picture of a girl; the girl who both gave me nightmares and provided comfort by just staring at her happy, carefree smile. _Damn it! Stop it, Grey!_ The whole point of taking each and every one of those god dam photos down was to fucking forget everything that has to do with her. Anastasia Steele. I've shut down – or rather – tried to shut down anything that has to do with her, since the moment I got back from London. I should've known better than to fucking waste two fucking years of my time and resources, finding and trying to get her back. Two years of searching for nothing; all I got is nothing. Nothing but defiance and a whole lot more of nothing. She flat out defied me and worse, ignored my every attempt to talk to her, preferring to send me an email that simply says she doesn't belong to anyone, that she doesn't want to talk and that I should leave London and fucking let her be, which I did, eventually.

I left London the very same night; just a few hours after reading that wretched email. I left not out of respect; but out of sheer anger. No one ever disrespected me, no one ever defied me and no one ever ignored me that way she fucking did. I was angry to the point of thrashing everything and anything my hands could get a hold of. My anger brought me back to my out of control teenage days; drinking and destroying anything I could get my hands on; only in London I had Taylor to both restrain me and remind me not to destroy my fucking suite; and then of course, my fucked up mind telling me that there are other _avenues,_ other solutions to let off steam. Needless to say, I got Ashley Winsell a few weeks later to help me... forget and to let out all the steam I've been keeping in; to take all the tension out of my fucked up system. And above all, Ashley Winsell, is supposed to make me forget about anything that has to do with that girl whose blue eyes keep bothering me in my sleep; the same girl who stumbled into my office and later became my favorite submissive. The girl who left Seattle and chose to live in London, when I terminated our contract after she said… said she loved me; the girl who fucking defied my when I tried to bring her back… Instead, it's the fucking exact opposite. The memories are worse than ever.

**~oOo~**

"I won't need you tonight and this weekend," I tell Ashley, when I find her preparing breakfast, after my morning run with Taylor.

"Oh," she says, clearly surprised by my announcement. "Would you like me to leave, Sir?" she says timidly, her eyes on the floor, just like a model submissive.

"You heard me. You may go home and celebrate the holiday with your friends and family."

"Thank you, Sir. But I thought you wanted to celebrate Christmas with me, Sir."

"You're clearly mistaken. Go home, Ms. Winsell, I'll call you if I ever… change my mind," I tell her as I go to my room, opting to take a shower before I have breakfast. Though the image of her hanging suspended in the middle of my playroom, gloriously naked, her skin glowing pink from my cane is a nice picture and rather tempting; really tempting. I've already agreed spend Christmas with my family as part of the Grey family tradition. Though it would be nice not to be around that wretched Katherine Kavanagh woman my brother calls his girlfriend, I don't want to disappoint my parents, especially my mother. I can still perfectly recall the only time I opted to stay in my apartment and not join my family for the yearly holiday family party because of my favorite new submissive; it was… fun, fucking her till Christmas – shit! _Yeah, here's to not thinking about that girl, Grey, cheers!_ I knew I broke one of my rules and I swore that it will never happen again. And though my new sub is good - too good, she isn't special enough for me to drop everything and spend holidays that I don't celebrate, might I add, and be with her. There's only one submissive who was able to make me do that and she is in fucking London right now. I shake my fucked up head and focus on the task at hand: shower, hot shower and Christmas dinner with my family. _Yeah, that's right. Focus, Grey and quit thinking of the girl that got away. She asked you to leave her be, so leave her the fuck be. _Besides, I know I would hurt my mother and my sister's feelings by cancelling at the last minute. I can almost see their faces – especially my mom's face – falling, with hurt and disappointment, which almost always makes me feel like shit. Yeah, not worth it.

**~oOo~**

"Excuse me, I have to take this," Katherine announces excitedly, her phone ringing on her hand as she hastily tries to go to the other room to take the call. How rude. We are all converged in the family room, Elliot, Katherine, my father and I, while we wait for my Mia and my mother, who prepared the feast for this evening's festivities. For my brother's sake, Katherine and I have agreed, albeit unconsciously to set the animosity aside and try to act civil, whenever we are forced to be in the same room together. Ignoring each other is the best option, mainly for her, since she can't seem to hide her anger and irritation towards me. And though I wholeheartedly feel the same, I have at least managed to keep it together, for the sake of my family, my brother especially and of course, I can't fucking risk the fact that this woman is friends with my ex... _submissive_. I can't risk my family knowing about my _other _life and knowing that Katherine is friends with one of the girls is as good as knowing half of what I've been keeping from my family for years. I simply can't risk it.

"Babe, you don't have to step outside, answer the phone and let me say hello to Ana," Elliot says, tugging Katherine's hand and forcing her back to his lap, where she's been sitting. Christ! Why did agree to this shit again?_ You're here because of your mother, Grey, so swallow the bile. _My father and I have been talking about my latest business acquisition in the east coast, when we all hear the ringing and Katherine almost squealing with excitement, followed by her eyes momentarily looking at me with that _look_ that is both smug and a reminder that says, she knows I followed her best friend in London, more than a year ago.

"Merry Christmas, Steele!" Katherine says merrily, her eyes and head still facing my general direction. "I'm good. How are you?"

"Tell her, hi and Merry Christmas, from me," Elliot says.

"She heard you, she's laughing and says: thanks and Merry Christmas to you too," Katherine giggles.

"Cool. Ask her when she's visiting here so I can introduce her to my little bro," Elliot retorts with his booming laugh as he shoots me a wink, while his girlfriend just tosses her hair and rolls her eyes rudely.

"She says, she's not sure, though she's inviting us to visit her in London," Katherine says, patiently.

"Fine. Tell her, we'll go if she promises to visit us," Elliot says, unfazed, still looking and winking at me like he's fucking doing me a favor. I roll my eyes. If only he knew the many times I fucked and punished that girl they've been talking to on the phone; if only they knew that she was with me for six months; if only they knew that I am the reason why she left Seattle for good; if only they knew that I see her in my dreams each night, that I looked for her for years until I found her in London last year and that she just pushed me away and defied me by refusing to talk and face me; if only they knew that she once belonged to no one but me; that she was my submissive and I was her Dominant… I wonder what they would think. I wonder that they would say. Chances are they would be repulsed, displeased and disappointed. _Because you are one fucked up son of a bitch, Grey, and you know it. T_he thought makes me want to vomit.

Katherine rolls her eyes, as she listens to her friend, whatever it is, I'm pretty sure her response will be an outright no, but knowing Ms. Steele, she would ask her BFF to say it politely, to keep my oaf brother in the dark, though I won't mind at all if she decides to visit and get re-introduced. _What the fuck happened to forgetting her, Grey?_ But just as she is about to share Ms. Steele's response, my mother and my little sister join us, with Mia excitedly announcing that dinner is fucking ready.

**~ooOoo~**

"So what did Ana, say?" Elliot probes, thank-fucking-fully continuing the discussion earlier over lamb chops entrees our baby sister expertly prepared for us. _Look at you, Grey, you're supposed to be forgetting her, not fucking mooning over her!_

"She said and I quote, she would love to, but she can't. She just secured a huge acquisition and it finally closed or was made official tonight. So basically, her work has barely even begun; she will be super busy," Katherine responds with a sigh, as she picks at her salad and for the briefest moment, I see sadness. Beneath that tough and rude persona she's been showing me, is a person who truly misses her best friend.

"No worries, babe, maybe we could visit her sometime," Elliot says, soothingly. "That's a bummer though. Sorry Bro, you two would've been perfect for each other. Both businessmen and all," Elliot muses. Kate doesn't respond, she just nods with her eyes narrowing towards my direction with the slightest glare. She is, without a doubt, blaming me for losing her best friend and for once, I fucking agree with her.

"Whatever," I shoot back, rolling my eyes as I finish my food. Disappointment and flags flew in every direction. I expected that she would politely refuse, but the disappointment is quickly forgotten with the piece of information her best friend threw before me; Ms. Steele is now into mergers and acquisitions. _Curios, very curious._

"What's your best friend's name again?" Mia says, already on her iPhone, google-ing away.

"Anastasia Steele. I doubt you'll find something about her, Mia; she has someone blocking any news or anything that has to do with her, out in the public. She only allows business related news to come out," Kate says, that smug smile reappearing. _Christ!_ It wouldn't surprise me if my brother's girlfriend is fucking bi-polar.

"See what I mean, little bro, you and Ana are so alike: very private and business minded, though she doesn't have the temper."

"Fuck off Ell—" I try to say but Mia's shrill voice interrupted any form of sound.

"Shut up!" Mia squeals royally. The fucking sound almost disrupts everyone's eardrums.

"What the fuck is that about, Mia?" I nearly shout back.

"Christian," my mother says in her reprimanding tone, eyeing me sternly before she sets her steely gaze to my little sister.

"Sorry about that, I was just surprised," Mia says, in utter embarrassment.

"About what exactly? I mean, you nearly tore the house and all our eardrums, with that voice of yours, Mia," Elliot exclaims with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah sorry about that; Kate's best friend just surprised me, that's all."

"What? Why?" Katherine says, baffled, her hand already outstretched to get Mia's phone. It takes all the control I can summon to not reach for my own Blackberry and Google the name and person I've been trying unsuccessfully to forget for about fifteen months and ten days now. All eyes are on Katherine – who was just talking to her best friend, a few minutes ago, might I add – as she reads whatever article Mia manages to find about _her. _

"That bitch!" Katherine gasps, barely a whisper, after a minute of silence.

"What? What is it, babe?" Elliot asks, extremely perplexed. Christ! Can someone just fucking get this over with?

"That big acquisition she was telling me. Well, that's a bit of an understatement."

* * *

_**Reviews are highly appreciated.**_


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